Race Against Crime
by Surf-merGirl1963
Summary: Frank is kidnapped by a ring of smugglers and Joe is determined to get him back. But when Joe meets up with an old enemy, things begin to look additionally grim for the two Hardy brothers. Rated T for violence. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**

I don't own any of these characters except for Ross, Mike and some unnamed bad men. There are several mentions of other _Hardy Boys Novels_; some ideas and character/group/place names are borrowed from these books. Other _Hardy Boys_ book titles are also mentioned. I don't own those either.

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Chapter 1

"Think fast!" 18-year-old Frank Hardy thrust a firm fist into the face of his attacker. The masked man recoiled as Frank threw another punch. "Oh, no you don't!" Frank lunged at the masked criminal, "You're not going anywhere!"

Frank and the masked man hit the wharf. He pinned the smuggler's arms behind his back. The man thrashed around trying to get loose.

A strong hand grasped Frank's shoulder and thrust him upward. Frank lost his grip as a muscular smuggler spun him around and threw a punch at his jaw. Frank avoided the blow and twisted out of the man's grasp. He ran down the wharf. His attackers followed.

He soon found himself trapped at a dead end. Dozens of wooden crates blocked his path. Frank turned and backed away slowly from the assailants, whom were now closing in. Frank glanced wildly around him looking for a means of escape. He found none.

"This is the end of the line Hardy!" The muscular thug sneered, "You've got no where to run!"

"Neither do you!" An avalanche of empty wooden crates rained down upon the two smugglers. Frank looked up to find the source of the slide. The sun glinted off the blonde hair of his rescuer, perched high above him on a mountain of packing crates.

"Joe! Great timing!"

Joe grinned at his older brother. "Sure thing! Be down in a bit." Joe began to ascend from the top crate. Upon reaching the base he raced over to his brother, "Guess we've got to dig them out, huh?"

"You've got it!" Frank replied removing a crate. They soon uncovered the two smugglers. Bruised and scratched the two thugs didn't attempt any more attacks.

After securely tying the criminals with their belts. The two brothers raced back down the dock toward the anchored freightliner. They were welcomed by another group of masked villains.

"Oh, no! Not again!"

"Well, at least they're not armed," Frank positioned himself for another attack.

"Really?" Joe answered back, "I count fifteen sets!" He ran forward at top speed to meet his competition. He lunged for the knees of the one nearest to him. The man went down like a rag doll, but not before his buddies joined in the fight.

"Not so fast, kid," One growled, prying Joe out of the hold. The downed smuggler jumped to his feet. He was about to take a swing at the youngest Hardy when Frank plowed into him. He was flung off his feet and pitched into a mass of fishing net.

Joe took the chance to escape. He stepped hard on the foot of his captor. The man howled with pain and loosened his grip. Joe broke free and threw a kick at the man's ribs. The impact made the man loose his footing sending him headlong into the water, but not before another man advanced upon the younger Hardy.

Joe backed away from an approaching opponent. He stumbled over an empty crate. He heard the sound of cracking wood as the crate splintered under his weight. He picked up a broken board and swung at his adversary. The man, caught off guard, received the blow and toppled backward joining his pal in the cold waters below.

Another thug advanced upon the older Hardy. Frank's fists flew at his attacker. The man dodged each blow.

"Frank, catch!" Joe hurled a broken board to his older brother. Frank caught it and swung. The masked figure continued to dodge as he crept closer to his victim.

Frank continued to swing at the smuggler. "Ugh!" the man groaned as the thin plank hit him square in the jaw. He sunk limply to the ground.

Frank chanced a look at his younger brother. "Joe! Look out!" he warned as another masked figure jumped off a pile of wooden crates falling right toward the unsuspecting younger Hardy.

Joe dodged the attack and spun around just as his attacker threw a punch. Joe received the blow and stumbled backward. Frank ran to his brother's aid, but before he could take a swing another masked figure shoved him to the ground. Frank cried out in pain as his face met with the damp wooden planks of the dock.

"Frank!" Joe leapt to his feet and ran toward his brother. He dodged the other masked brutes that blocked his way.

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain shoot through his right leg. His legs collapsed beneath him and he found himself plummeting headlong off the dock and toward the churning waters below.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Joe braced himself as he hit the icy water. His lean body cut through the inky dark depths of the harbor, like a knife. As he struggled against the current, his lungs burned for more oxygen.

_I'm gonna die!_ He thought in dismay as he kicked and squirmed. The salt water burned his eyes. Then finally, his body began to him upward and with all his remaining strength, Joe fought his way to the surface.

Once surfacing, he greedily gulped the fresh salty sea air. He scrambled over to the edge of the dock and pulled himself up.

The pier was empty. Where was Frank? Joe pulled himself to his feet and rubbed at his eyes, trying to take away the salty sting. Pain shot through his right leg as he struggled to stay standing. He brushed a saltwater saturated strand of hair from his eyes. Where were all the bad guys? He took a step forward and nearly slipped on the wet planking. He grabbed a post to steady himself and called out.

"Frank!"

No answer.

"Frank?" Joe limped down the empty pier, but nobody was there. It was as if he dreamed up the whole scenario. Where was Frank and where were all the smugglers?

……

Frank awoke to the sound of the rumbling ocean, as waves hit the bow of the ship. He slowly opened his eyes. A solid black wall greeted him. Blood pounded in his head. He didn't know how long he had been out, but whatever they used had terrible side effects.

Where was he? The last he could remember was seeing his brother plunge into the dark waters of the bay. Then smelling a peculiar odor as a chemical saturated cloth was pressed hard over his mouth and nose and his arms were pinned forcefully behind himself.

_Chloroform._ The word made it's way into Frank's pounding skull. _They must have knocked me out with chloroform_. The chemical always put Frank out like a light and resulted with a throbbing headache.

Frank's mouth felt bone dry. He could taste the suffocating flavor of the cloth secured into his mouth. They had gagged him. Frank made an attempt to move his arms, but failed. They were tied securely behind his back. His ankles, the same.

Frank struggled desperately against the cord that bound him. The bonds were tied securely. There was no way for him to escape.

……

Joe sat down on a wooden barrel to rest. He had been walking aimlessly calling for his brother for over an hour. His efforts, however, had not been rewarded. Frank was gone and Joe feared the worse.

He began to regret getting involved with this mystery. He wished he had never suggested they investigate after he accidentally came into the possession of a stolen artifact: a beautiful vase.

Joe had accidentally bumped into a man in town and through all the confusion ended up with a small cardboard box. Determined to find the owner, Frank suggested they open it. What they found inside was hardly a piece of identification. It was a very old Chinese vase. Both brothers instantly recognized as one of the artifacts stolen from a museum across the states. Inside it was the address of an old warehouse on the Bayport waterfront. A clue?

It was Joe who had suggested they go to the warehouse in search of the thief. Instead of finding more artifacts, they were greeted by a pack of snarling criminals. A trap!

He heaved a deep sigh. The whole thing had been his idea. If anyone was at fault for Frank's disappearance, it was he.

Joe continued to stumble across the dock. The pain in his right ankle burned each step he took. He paused to sit down on a crate for a rest. That's when he heard it. Voices.

Joe dived behind a nearby stack of crates just before two men rounded the corner of an abandoned warehouse. Though they were several feet away, Joe could hear clearly what they were saying.

"I don't think he made it." The first said. He had sandy blonde hair combed neatly into a surfer style. He looked to be about sixteen.

"The boss isn't going too be to happy about this." The other said. He was tall and lean with short, glossy black hair. Joe guessed they were talking about him.

"I know, but what can we do?" The first stooped to retie his dirty tennis shoes, just inches from where Joe was hiding, "She can't say we didn't try."

She? Joe was wondering if he heard correctly.

"Yeah, well, we'd better head back to the boat." The second man turned, "She'll want to set off soon. Come on." He walked toward a massive crating ship.

After tying his laces, the boy followed. They slowly walked up a gangplank and disappeared from view.

After he was sure they'd gone, Joe emerged from his hiding place and followed. Fortunately, they had not yet removed the wooden gangplank.

Joe stepped onto the wobbly wooden board and inched his way up to the deck. No one was there. Playing it safe, Joe stepped onto the deck and slipped behind a pile of crates― and not a moment to soon. The two men he'd seen earlier emerged from the cabin entrance and walked over to the gangplank, pulling it up.

"How do you like that? We look for him and she acts as if it's our fault that he's missing."

"What do you expect? She's always been a pain."

The dark-haired man chuckled. "Of course, you'd say that."

"What? It's true." The boy crouched and pulled the gangplank up on deck.

So intent on hearing what was said, Joe didn't notice the being sneaking up behind him. He felt a sharp pain on the back of his head just before the world went black.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Joe's eyes opened sluggishly. He found himself tied securely to a sturdy wooden chair in the middle of a casually decorated room complete with a small porthole on a far pale yellow wall and two doors that faced opposite of one another.

A beautiful young woman sat, legs crossed, in a comfortable gray-green armchair. She was wearing blue jeans and an off-white button-up blouse. Her long reddish-blonde hair cascaded down over her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes where fixed on Joe, a smile spread to her lips.

Joe recognized the young woman immediately, "Charity?"

The young woman's smile widened with pleasure, "Hello, Joe." Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

Joe half-heartedly returned the smile, "We need to stop meeting like this you know."

"Really? I rather like it." She stood and walked toward the bond Hardy, "This way I can have you right where I want you."

"The authorities are still sore about the job you pulled in San Fran." Joe continued. Joe was referring to an earlier case that took him and Frank to the sparkling and almost deadly city of San Francisco.

Charity grinned, "What can I say." She stood in front of Joe now. Her blue eyes locked with his, "I wanted that crown."

"I'm surprised you're even showing your face in Bayport, after what happened last time." Joe glared at her, remembering the dangerous sequence of events that had occurred last time he saw Charity, during the _Thick as Thieves_ case. He and Frank had been dragged all the way to San Diego and nearly got themselves killed!

"That was unfortunate, wasn't it?" She tilted his chin up with a slender finger and said, "I hope that little incident didn't ruin our friendship."

Joe broke eye contact. Charity was beautiful all right, but she was also a thief and, at times, deadly.

When he didn't answer, Charity sighed deeply, walked over toward the porthole, then said, "But I guess that's all a thing of the past now. Am I right?" She turned and again walked toward him, "I now have bigger fish to fry."

Joe's eyes narrowed, "Like Frank?"

"Your brother?" Charity's light bell-like laughter filled the air, "What would I want with your brother?"

"I don't know, but considering it was your men who kidnapped him, I just thought―"

Charity silenced him by putting her fingers to his lips, "My men did not kidnap your foolish brother," Her voice took on a serious note, "All I know is whomever did also took a special piece I had hoped to sell to a very wealthy buyer." She sauntered back to the chair and sat down.

"Another artifact?" Joe looked at her, disgusted.

"Yes, in fact. A beautiful Chinese vase." She smiled, "Don't look at me so crossly, Darling. I only tied you up so you wouldn't try to escape."

She made it sound so simple, yet Joe didn't like a word of what she was saying. He didn't intend on letting her know that he had the vase stored safely at home deep within a cabinet.

"I have a proposition to make." She said at last, "What do you say to this? I'll help you retrieve your brother and you help me acquire the vase. Deal?" She smiled sweetly.

Joe glared at her, "That's stealing. Not to mention blackmail."

Charity smirked, "Darling, you can't steal something that has already been stolen."

Joe glared at her, his lips set in a straight line, "It makes no difference who stole it first. It's _still _considered stealing."

Charity looked disappointed. She rose again and soon stood in front of him.

"What a pity," she sighed dramatically and again tilted up his chin so that his sky blue eyes met hers, "You know. When I offered to be your partner in crime, I meant it."

Joe looked at her straight in the face. No fear showed in his eyes though his face grew warm. "It's a good thing that was an offer I could refuse." Joe snapped, hoping she didn't realize he was blushing.

Charity sighed again and gently patted his cheek. "I'll give you some time to think it over."

She blew him a kiss as she exited through the door, locking it behind her.

Joe let out a sigh of relief. Time to think about it? No way! He was getting out of here. He struggled against his bonds hoping to get some slack. He got none.

He wasn't usually one to give up, but in this case, he had no choice. The only thing he'd acquire from trying to release the bonds would be sore or even bloody wrists. Not an experience he'd want to repeat. Besides, Joe tried to reassure himself, Even if I were to get untied; I doubt I'd get very far with a sprained ankle.

Joe soon decided his only option was to go along with Charity's scheme. He'd have the upper hand on the situation if she thought he was on her side. Once he got Frank back he could recover the vase and put Charity behind bars. Joe smiled to himself as he waited patiently for Charity's return.

……

Frank tried again to loosen his bonds. It was no use. His efforts were fruitless.

The trapdoor opened above him. He saw a burly man climb down the ladder and move toward him.

"Alright, Hardy," The man sneered. It was so dark that the only features Frank could make out were the man's teeth and the whites of his eyes. This caused the man to appear ghoulish. "It's time to take a little road trip." Frank groaned and struggled profusely as a thick blindfold was tied securely around his head.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

When Charity returned later that evening she brought with her a silver tray full of assorted breads and a glass of what looked to be orange juice. "Thought you might be getting hungry." She said as she placed the tray on a small table that sat to the left of the green armchair.

"Thanks," Joe forced a smile.

"Don't mention it." Charity smiled back, exposing a perfect set of white teeth. She walked over to where he was sitting and said, "But before you eat, you must promise me you won't try to escape."

Joe thought of disagreeing, but thought better of it. He hadn't eaten since that morning and was very hungry. "I won't," he promised.

"Great." She then untied his hands and retrieved the tray, "Alright. Pick your pick."

Joe selected a sweet blueberry muffin and the juice. As he ate, Charity helped herself to a cranberry scone. She spread smooth yellow butter on the crumbly pastry and took a large bite, washing it down with a long gulp of black coffee.

Joe gulped down the rest of his muffin, and then helped himself to a second.

After he'd finished, Charity rebound his hands and again sat on the green armchair. She spoke first, "Well? Did you make a decision or do you need more time to think about it?"

Joe took a deep breath before answering, "I've decided to help you." Charity's bright blue eyes brightened at the news, "I only ask that you don't let anyone know I helped you steal the vase; especially Frank."

Charity began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Joe demanded.

"Did you obviously think I'd fall for that one?" She rose and walked over to where Joe was sitting.

"What one?" Joe smiled innocently, hoping she didn't catch the edge to his voice.

"Oh Darling, you needn't lie to me. The expression on your face was a dead give-away." Charity stopped in front of him and stooped down so that her eyes met his, "It's so clearly written in your gorgeous blue eyes. You want to gain my trust so that you can double cross me as soon as you have your brother back."

"What makes you say that?"

"Darling, I know you better then all that. You never give up without a fight."

"Who said I'm giving up?" Joe met her gaze, "I've only decided to be your business partner. Isn't that what you wanted?"

When she didn't answer, Joe continued, "Charity. I need to rescue Frank and I can't very well do so if I'm tied to this chair."

Charity stood and walked back toward the door. "Well then it looks as if you have a problem, because I'm not letting you free." She exited the room letting the door slam behind her.

……

That night Joe strained vigorously against his bonds. The ropes brutally bit into his flesh. He winced as pain shot through his burning wrists. Well, that wasn't going to work…

A small circle of moonlight filtered in through the porthole, creating a small, pale yellow circle in the middle of the battered hardwood floor. The moonlight glinted off something small and silver lying on the floor. Joe recognized the object immediately. A butter knife!

Joe swayed rhythmically as he rocked. The chair shook and crashed to the floor with a large bang. Not wasting another minute, Joe tried desperately to inch across the floor toward the glowering object. The chair hindered his efforts. He writhed and wriggled against his bonds. Joe soon began to slowly creep forward along the wooden floor. He soon had the small metal object in his grasp. He fumbled with it for a few moments and within minutes begun to saw through the ropes, which held his wrists.

Reaching success, he instantly got to work on the rope binding him to the chair, then tackled his ankles. In less than five minutes, he was free.

Joe shambled toward the door on the far wall. It opened to reveal a plain room containing a single mattress. A closet sat at the far end of the wall. Joe closed the door and ran back into the original room to try the other door. He turned the brass knob. Locked. He retrieved the butter knife and got to work on the old fashioned lock.

He soon had it unlocked. He reached for the doorknob. That's when he heard it. Voices. Someone was coming down the hall!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Joe panicked. He quickly limped back into the bedroom and raced toward the closet, trying not to call out from the pain of his twisted ankle. He paused. _That'll be the first place they'll look._ Joe thought to himself. He instead hid behind the bedroom door and not a moment too soon.

The door swung open. Joe watched through a crack as Charity walked in first, "Joe? " She gasped, "Joe!" She ran over to the chair, which lay on its side. "He escaped." She said, "Search the entire ship from top to bottom. I want him found!"

"Yes, ma'am," Joe heard a man's voice answer. Joe recognized it as the black haired guy he had seen earlier, on the docks.

Joe didn't emerge from his hiding place until he heard the door close and the retreating footsteps of his captors. He waited a few moments more, and then raced back into the other room. He suddenly felt cold steel press against his temple.

"Don't move!" Charity demanded, keeping the gun pressed to Joe's head. Joe complied. Charity guided him back to the chair and ordered him to sit. Joe did as he was told.

_So much for escaping_, Joe thought as Charity rebound his wrists with thick nylon cord. When she had finished she retrieved the butter knife from the floor.

"I had wondered where I left this." A smile came to her lips as she grasped the small metal object, "So this is how you cut the ropes. Is it not?"

Joe glared at her.

Charity didn't seem to notice. She placed the small knife securely into her pocket, and then walked toward the door. She paused, "Good night. Oh, and Joe?" She turned toward him, "Do me a favor and don't try anymore 'great escapes'." Her light laughter filled the air as she closed and locked the door behind her.

……

Joe awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming through the small porthole bathing the room in a soft pale yellow light. While he was asleep someone had come in, turned out the lights and covered him with a warm wool blanket. _Charity, no doubt,_ Joe thought to himself.

As if hearing her name, Charity waltzed into the room carrying another tray. Today it was filled with pastries and two tall glasses of chilled milk.

"Good morning," Charity smiled pleasantly, "Sleep well?"

"As well as I could, tied to a chair," Joe answered bitterly.

"Oh, that reminds me," Charity set the tray down on the table and rushed to Joe's side. She undid his hands and feet. "There, how's that."

"Thanks," Joe mumbled trying to regain the circulation to his wrists, "Aren't you going to make me promise I won't escape?"

"No." She again picked up the tray and offered Joe some of the pastries and a glass of milk. Joe readily accepted his breakfast. He selected two large raspberry jelly doughnuts and the glass of milk. He ate hungrily. After he had finished, he asked, "Why wouldn't you untie me last night, but you did this morning? I doubt it has anything to do with trust. Why the sudden change of heart?"

Charity smiled knowingly, "You don't miss a thing do you?" She collected his empty glass and set it back on the tray. "I didn't untie you last night because we were still much too close to shore." She paused to nibble at a banana muffin then continued. "I knew if you were to be untied, nothing would have stopped you from jumping overboard and swimming to freedom."

Joe nodded in understanding, "I see."

"But now that we're farther out to sea―" Charity began.

"There's no chance of me making a run for it." Joe finished her sentence.

"Exactly," Charity answered, smiling her sweetest smile.

Joe shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "Where exactly are we headed?"

"How should I know?" Charity replied simply. Joe could tell she was lying.

Charity rose, retrieved the tray and moved toward the door. "Feel free to explore the ship," She said as she exited. This time she didn't bother closing the door behind herself.

Joe decided to take her up on her offer. He stood and instantly and walked over to the small porthole. He peered out the small opening and saw only a wide stretch of crystal clear ocean and a blue cloud-spotted sky. _Charity wasn't lying,_ Joe thought to himself. _We are in the middle of the ocean._

He stepped away from the window and began to explore the rest of the small room. After a quick investigation, Joe decided the room was no more then what he saw from the chair. It was an empty room filled with a small wooden table, gray-green armchair, an Oriental rug and a single chair: The one he had been occupying the last few hours. The adjoining room consisted of a threadbare mattress and an empty closet.

This decided, Joe exited the room and found himself in a long gray hallway lined with dozens of wooden doors; all like the one he had just exited. Joe tried a door to his right; locked. He tried another; locked. Seven doors later, Joe decided his efforts were fruitless. Charity had obviously locked every door that lined the hallway. She obviously didn't trust him and only suggested that he explore the ship because she knew he couldn't. Frustrated and angry, Joe struck the door beside him with a clenched fist. To his surprise, it swung open! Joe peered through the open doorway expecting to be faced with someone investigating the racket. He was met with a small steel spiral staircase that ascended to the ceiling.

After seconds passed and no one appeared, Joe entered and cautiously made his way up the narrow steps. As he neared the top, he could hear the screech of seagulls and smell the strong sent of salt water. He stopped as he was met with another door. He grabbed the small brass knob and turned. The door swung out ward exposing a wide stretch of wooden planked deck.

Momentarily forgetting where he was, Joe ran out on the slippery deck and over to the painted metal railing that lined it. Gripping the rail he looked out over the wide expanse of endless blue. Salt stung at his nostrils as he inhaled a deep breath of the tangy sea air.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Joe instantly turned to find Charity standing beside him. He frowned, "It's nice."

Charity smiled at him.

"So," Joe held the word out as if he didn't already plan what he was going to say, but then realized he really didn't know what to say. _Scratch casual,_ Joe thought, _be direct. _

"I noticed many of the doors on this ship are locked. Why?" Joe looked Charity straight in the eye.

She smiled avoiding his question, "I just love sailing, don't you."

Joe began to get angry. "Look I don't know what you're hiding, but if its Frank you can be sure I'll find him!" He turned and went back through the door he had come from earlier. After racing down the stairway he began retrying all the doors.

"You're wasting your time."

Joe turned. Charity stood just outside the doorway that lead to the staircase, "None of those doors are unlocked."

Joe glared at her. _But I bet you have the key!_ He took a step toward her, his fists clenched. He hated being treated like a baby. If she had the key, he was going to get it! He took another step forward then froze.

Charity waved the gun in front of his flustered face. "Don't do anything foolish, Joe." She warned.

Joe bit back his angry words. She wasn't gaining any points for his respect.

Satisfied that she got the message through, Charity returned the gun to her pocket, "Now why don't we go back up on deck and discuss this like sensible people, shall we?" She turned and walked up the stairs.

Joe followed slowly. She was on to his tricks. The only thing he could do was play along and hope to come out of it alive.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Frank flexed his arm muscles trying to break the rotting ropes that held him. His efforts failed.

"It's no use, " Frank mumbled to himself, "Without a light, there's no way I can break these ropes." His captors had moved him off the ship and into a dark room. Frank didn't know how long he had been lying on the cold stone floor of his prison. It felt like days. His stomach growled in agreement. Frank frowned. He hadn't noticed how hungry he had become. The last time he had eaten was a quick lunch he and Joe had devoured before arriving at the wharf.

Joe. The last time Frank had seen his brother was when he saw Joe plunging head first into the bay. Had the smugglers kidnapped Joe as well? Or was Joe lost forever in the churning waters of the bay? Frank hoped for neither.

His thoughts were brought to the present when he heard the door to his prison open. A flashlight beam shone on his face, blinding him.

"Alright, Hardy. It's time to go for a little walk."

……

Joe stared aimlessly out to sea as Charity rattled on about random things she'd stolen and sold to the highest bidder.

"That crown provided me with quite a hefty sum." Charity glanced in his direction to see if he was listening. When she noticed he wasn't she placed a hand affectionately on his shoulder, "What's wrong?"

_Wrong?_ Joe thought. _My brother was kidnapped, I'm being held against my will on a ship headed who-knows-where, my captor is a art thief and―_ "I'm fine." Joe mumbled.

"It's your brother isn't it?" She asked, "Don't worry as soon as you get that vase, you'll get your brother back."

Joe felt like punching her in the face, and he would have, providing she wasn't a girl. Joe didn't understand how she could be so understanding one minute, and then as venomous as a snake the next. It just didn't make sense.

When Joe didn't answer Charity said, "Oh darling, you needn't to be mad at me. I'm only looking out for your best interests. I wouldn't want _anything_ to happen to _you_."

Joe doubted she meant the first, but the latter sounded plausible. Maybe he could play off her affections to get away? _Don't! _A voice in him warned. Joe shrugged it off. Charity was a criminal, not an innocent girl that just happened to have a crush on him. With this newfound motivation, Joe tried his first move.

"Charity," He kept his voice casual, "Did I ever tell you what gorgeous blue eyes you have?" Though he felt like hurling, Joe flashed her his most dazzling smile.

His efforts failed miserably. "Joe, Joe, Joe." She said shaking her head, "Did you seriously think I'd fall for that?"

_I'd hoped you would_, Joe thought, but kept the sarcastic remark to himself. "Fall for what, _Darling_?" he asked keeping his tone casual and silky smooth. He held out the last word just as she had done earlier. He smiled again trying to soften the hate portrayed in his eyes.

She smiled back. "Joe, Joe, Joe," She repeated, "What am I going to do with you?"

_Set me free. No, bad move. I'm playing a 'love sick teenager' not a sarcastic clown._ Joe reminded himself consciously."Do with me? What do you mean?"

Even though she didn't seem to be buying it, she looked like she was enjoying the attention, "Well, I can't very well let you get away..." She paused for a moment, tapping her pink lips with a slender finger, "Oh, and Joe? Flattery is not in my vocabulary." She spun around and began walking back toward the ship's main cabin.

Joe felt like punching his own lights out. She saw right through his whole charade! Boy, did he need some lessons in the flattery department!

He took one last look at the ocean, then headed to the other side of the ship. While he was free, he might as well start searching for clues.

……

Frank's captor led him down a dark corridor and out into a star spangled night. From the look of all the stone buildings Frank guessed he was in some sort of fortress, and by the amount of trees, it was out in the woods.

"Keep moving, Hardy." The smuggler said gruffly as he shoved the gun barrel into Frank's lower back.

Frank grunted in protest, but picked up his pace. He was led through a maze of solid gray stone structures.

Frank composed a plan. At the next corner he'd make a run for it. With his hands still bound behind him, the run could prove to be difficult, but Frank didn't see he had any other option. He knew that if he didn't escape soon, his chances of survival would be even slimmer. If he were quick enough, he'd be able to loose his captors in the maze of buildings. Although, if he weren't quick enough Frank didn't want to think about the latter, right now he needed to watch for a chance to break free.

His chance came quicker then he expected. Rounding the next corner Frank took off at a fast sprint.

His captor was taken by surprise, "Hey, stop!" He began to run after the fleeing youth.

Frank kept running.

"I said stop!" The man shouted again. He lifted his pistol, aimed, and fired.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Joe wriggled his fingers to regain the circulation in his bound, aching wrists.

After searching what he could of the ship, Joe had returned to the deck to plan his next move. That's where Charity found him moments later, demanding he return to the nearly empty room that had been his prison.

Joe thought about resenting but thought better of if when she shoved the small handgun into his face. He wasn't one to argue with a loaded pistol. She led him back into the room, rebound him to the chair, then stationed herself in the small armchair, and that's where she stayed, reading a fashion magazine.

Joe began to get impatient, "What's the big deal? It's not like I can go anywhere."

"Maybe not, but there are those who don't like people snooping about the ship." Though her response was directed at Joe, Charity didn't look up from the publication.

Joe knew she wasn't telling the whole truth, that is, if she was telling the truth at all. "Snooping? I can't very well 'snoop' considering over ninety percent of the doors on this ship are locked." Joe retorted angrily.

Charity pretended she hadn't heard him. The silence only angered Joe more. "Goodnight! What does it take for you to understand my predicament? I want to go home and I want my brother back, _now_!"

"I am quite aware of your situation, Joe." Charity replied simply, "Even so, I'm the one giving the orders here and I'm not letting you out of that chair. We are going to be arrive " she stopped in mid sentence as if she had said too much, "I'm not sure if I can trust you not to escape."

_So that's it!_ Joe thought. _We're gong to be docking soon and she doesn't want me to escape. We'll just see about that!_

As if reading his mind, Charity replied, "Don't be foolish, Joe. I've just as soon keep you alive."

Joe glared at her. He _was_ going to get out of there and rescue his brother. Even if it killed him!

"Now, enough chit-chat," Charity advanced upon him, "We have to get ready." She pulled a lace trimmed handkerchief and small glass vile from out of her pocket.

"And just as an added precaution, so you don't cause me any trouble―" She poured a little of the liquid substance contained in the vial onto the handkerchief and held it up to his nostrils.

Joe tried not to breathe, but he soon began to feel dizzy as his eyelids began to close. He tried to fight off the oncoming darkness as it embraced him. Swallowing him in an endless black hole.

"Good night, Joe."

……

Frank ducked just as a bullet flew over his head. He quickly took another corner. He could still hear his captors, hot in pursuit. Another bullet whizzed past Frank's ear. He took a couple more sharp turns hoping to ditch his pursuers.

He took another corner. Dead end. He searched desperately for a means of escape. The shouts of his pursuers grew increasingly louder. He was running out of time! His only option was to go over the very stonewall that blocked his path.

The great concrete wall towered above him. Frank guessed it to be about nine feet tall. Being 6'1' Frank, on his tiptoes, was able to grasp the top edge of the wall and pull himself upward.

Bruised, scratched and perched atop the concrete structure, Frank found that his efforts were fruitless. On the other side of the wall was a cliff. No shrubs or bushes were visible for possible footholds.

"Over here!"

Frank froze. In minutes, he would be discovered. His only options were to fight his adversaries head-on or drop hundreds of feet to his death!

……

_Where am I?_ Joe though as he opened his eyes sluggishly, blinking a few times as the room came into focus. The last that Joe could remember was talking with Charity on the ship. Wait! The cloth, the vial― Chloroform!

_That explains this throbbing headache_, Joe thought. He closely examined his surroundings. The small, windowless room provided no answer to his question. Wooden panels covered the walls and cold gray rock provided a solid floor. He seemed to be in some sort of closet or secret compartment.

He struggled against his bonds, trying to loosen them. The nylon cord brutally bit into his wrists. Warm blood oozed from the fresh cuts. Joe winced. That was definitely not what he wanted to do.

He began to wonder how Frank would handle the situation. _He wouldn't panic_, Joe decided, _Frank would keep a clear head and examine his options._ What options? Joe instantly pushed the negative thought aside. There had to be a way out of this.

Joe took three deep breaths and made a mental note of all his materials. He had the nylon cord, the chair he was bound to, the― yes! The chair! If he could tip the chair, perhaps it would splinter and he could use a sharp edge to cut through the cord. Then what? Joe looked about the room. Escape out windows or a door was impossible, providing there weren't any. Besides, falling to the rock floor may splinter the chair, but it could also shatter his skull, or at least knock himself into unconsciousness. Definitely not something he had on his to-do list. Perhaps if he―

A piece of the wall flung open, interrupting Joe's thoughts.

"Joe!" Charity rushed to his side, "You're bleeding!"

_You think I don't know that?_ Joe kept the sarcastic remark to himself. He glared at her, biting back the mean words.

Charity frowned. She removed a plain handkerchief from her jeans pocket and began to dab at his bloodied wrists, "It was foolish to try and get free if you hadn't you―"

Joe cut her off. "I what? Been your prisoner forever? Feel like a failure for not even attempting to get free? What? Tell me!"

Charity just stared at him in shock. She instantly stopped dabbing his wrists and stood up. Hands on her hips she retorted harshly, "I bring you to a safe isolated destination and this is all you do to repay me?"

"Safe? Safe? Yeah, right! If it's so safe why am I tied up in a closet?"

"Ooh! Can't you be grateful? If I hadn't rescued you from the docks, you could be in the same predicament as your dumb brother."

"Rescued? Ha! More like abducted! As for Frank, I think you do know where he is and if you think―"

Joe stopped when Charity pulled out a gun, "Enough!" She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down, "Joe," her tone was soothing and sincere, "I don't want to hurt you."

Joe stared at the pistol, "You don't?"

Charity sighed and pocketed the weapon, "No, I don't and you're right. I shouldn't keep you tied up. It's not as if you could get off this island anyway. I should be treating you as a guest, not a prisoner."

"Island?" Joe asked as she began to untie his wrists.

"My own private island. I bought it with the money I made off my last few jobs. Complete with a mansion and swimming pool."

Joe opened his mouth to protest, but Charity put up a hand to silence him, "Joe, I know you don't agree with my line of business, but you have to understand, it's an easy way to live." She finished untying his ankles. Joe rubbed the circulation back into his hands and feet. "Now com on. Let's get some antibiotic cream onto those cuts."

Charity took a credit card from her pocket and inserted it between two wooden panels in the wall. A panel slid open revealing a door leading to what looked to be an exercise room.

If not for the gun she was carrying, Joe would have tried to escape.

She led him out a door and down a long hallway. The mansion was richly furnished. Many famous paintings hung on the dark crimson walls.

Joe stopped in front of one to examine it further. He recognized it immediately. So this is what became of the famous _Scream _painting that had gone missing years back.

"It's a copy." He turned. Charity gave him a knowing look. He gave her a half smile that she returned. "Come on."

Their venture ended in an impressive kitchen. All the appliances were state-of-the-art stainless steel. The counter tops where made of creamy marble.

Charity walked over to a cherry-wood cabinet and removed a first aid kit.

She opened it and removed a small tube of ointment. "Here put some of this on those nasty cuts." She handed him the tube.

Still suspicious of her he took the tube and examined the label. It was indeed antibiotic cream. He opened it and inhaled. Well, it smelt like the right thing.

She laughed. "You don't trust anybody, do you?"

He ignored her question and applied some of the white cream onto his throbbing wrists. Charity then wrapped a gauze bandage around each wound.

He mumbled his thanks. She smiled at him, her voice then took on a serious note, "Now, you're free to roam around the island, but do us both a favor and don't try to escape."

Again, he didn't answer.

She shrugged, "Now, if you'll excuse me. I've got to run and take care of a few minor details." She blew him a soft kiss as she left.

Joe smirked. She was playing right into his plan. Not try anything? Right. Like he was going to listen. He was going to escape, island or no island.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Frank frowned at his bound hands. _Well, at least I'm not dead_. He thought to himself.

He had chosen to fight his enemies, but that ended with a bump on the head. He had been out for who-knows-how-long before coming to. They had brought him to another room. This one looked a little more inviting. It had pale blue walls and a carpeted floor. The room was filled with many nice antique furnishings. Unfortunately, it lacked windows.

Frank had to admit; the chair he was tied to didn't look too shabby. It reminded him of something his Aunt Gertrude might buy.

Aunt Gertrude. Frank suddenly had a hopeful thought. His mother and aunt would have missed the boys by now and had possibly called their father. Fenton Hardy was probably already on his way to rescuing his sons.

With the comforting thought Frank closed his eyes. His head began to nod then fell into a deep asleep.

……

Joe was less then happy. Sure, she let him free, but what was freedom when a twelve-foot fence topped with sharp barbed wire surrounded the entire estate and burly guards were stationed every hundred feet?

The front gate had been open and Joe had tried to casually walk through, but two guards stopped him, and after giving him a few good punches for his mouthy response, they had thrown him into a small patch of sticker bushes.

_Ouch! _Joegrimaced. That hurt! He looked at his scratched arms and legs and gingerly touched his black eye. One thing was for sure. Those guards weren't one to give a guy a fair fight.

For one thing, both of the guards outweighed Joe by at least fifty pounds. Not to mention the fact that one held him while the other threw the punches.

Joe rubbed his sore jaw. That was the last time he was going to tell someone they fought like a girl.

He had been walking for several hours and the sun was just beginning to set over the glittering blue ocean. He figured he was on the opposite side of the estate, far from the mansion.

Joe wandered into a small garden. He needed some time to think, not to mention stop his head from spinning.

He sat down on a cold stone bench. He thought back to home.

His mother and aunt were probably frantic! No doubt his father had been alerted.

He then found his thoughts wandering back to his brother. Where was Frank? What had happened back there at the dock?

The sound of rustling leaves brought Joe back to reality.

He looked around quickly. He felt the presence just before bullets flew overhead.

……

Frank opened his brown eyes slowly. Someone was opening the door!

He quickly closed his eyes again and relaxed, trying to appear unconscious.

"Still out like a light." A gruff voice said, "You sure that whack you gave him didn't kill him?"

"Naw." A second voice said, "He should be coming to pretty soon. Now, help me with these other bodies."

_Bodies_? Frank wondered if he had heard right. What he heard next, confirmed that he had.

"Alright. Let's move him first." Frank heard the men grunt as they lifted a body from the ground. "Now her." Frank heard them move another person. "Okay, now the kid." They moved one more person and left minutes later.

Frank opened an eye. He examined the figure lying at his feet. Something was very familiar about the girl's strawberry-blonde hair.

Frank examined the rest of the bodies. The first was a tall man with glossy black hair and a square jaw. The second was a young kid with sandy blonde hair in a surfer style.

Frank recognized neither of the two men. He then refocused his attention on the still figure of the young girl. She began to stir. Her eyes slowly opened and blinked a few times.

Blue eyes! Frank now knew who the girl was. Charity.

"Fr-Frank?" She blinked a few times.

Frank frowned, "Charity."

She managed a half smile, "Joe will be glad to know you're okay." She struggled into a sitting position.

"Joe? You know where Joe is? He's alive?" Frank instantly became interested.

"Uh! Whatever those guys drugged me with sure has bad side effects!" Charity put a shaky hand to her forehead.

"Probably chloroform. That's the way these guys work." Frank said. He decided to try to loosen his bonds again.

"Wait! Let me untie those for you!" She stood and almost collapsed again.

"Whoa there!" Frank shoved out his bound feet to help break her fall. "You better take it easy for awhile and let the dizziness pass."

"Thanks." She sat there for a few minutes staring blankly at the door, "You know what, Frank? You're a lot like your brother."

"Why do you say that?"

"When I had Joe tied to a chair he tried to get undone so many times, that he made his wrists bleed."

"While you're resting, might I ask you a couple questions?" Frank pressed hoping to learn more of his brother.

"Shoot." She gave him a lopsided grin.

"About Joe―"

She cut him off. "I don't know where he is currently, but he _was_ with me and my― Oh, my gosh! Where's Ross?"

"Ross?" Frank arched an eyebrow.

"My kid brother." Charity explained, "He and I were― uh― well, here. And then some guys jumped us. I don't remember much after that."

"Where, might I ask, is _here_?" Frank asked.

"My mansion." Charity elucidated, "I'm surprised they got on the island. I have guards crawling all over this place."

Frank wasn't. "Are your guards, by any chance, easy to bribe?"

"Well, yeah. I guess. Bribery was the only way to get them to work for me."

"Uh huh." Frank focused his attention back to the two still forms that still occupied the carpet. The blonde boy groaned and began to stir.

"Ross!" Charity jumped to her feet and raced to the young boy's side. "And Mike, too?" She added noticing the black haired man lying beside her brother.

"What hit me?" Ross opened an eye. I feel as if I've been run over by a bulldozer." He struggled into a sitting position.

"Ross, are you alright?" Charity expressed her concern for her brother's condition.

"Sure, sis. Sure. Where's Mike?"

"Right― uh, here." The dark haired man slowly propped himself up. "Sorry, miss Charity. I should have known this might happen."

Charity frowned, "It's alright, Mike. No one could have known Johnson would pull something like that."

"Johnson?" Frank asked.

Ross and Mike both looked quizzically at Frank, noticing him for the first time.

"Who's he?" Ross whispered to his sister, "He looks like that no good Frank Hardy you warned me about."

"I think he is!" Mike rose to his feet pounding a clenched fist into his open palm, "Want me to shut him up, Miss Charity?"

"Oh, no― uh, don't do that. He's not who you think." Charity leapt to her feet.

Mike arched a thick eyebrow, "Then who is he?"

"Uh― Fred. Fred Brady." Said Charity. "He was working for me. That is, before he disappeared."

Mike looked as if he didn't believe her, but didn't voice his thoughts. "Oh― sorry."

Ross looked relieved, "It must be awful for you, resembling one of those Hardy brothers, Fred."

Frank nodded, "Yeah. Plenty of people mistake me for him."

"We had the younger Hardy, earlier. You know, Joe Hardy? Don't know where he is now. I sure hope he's okay." Ross started to remove the bonds that held Frank's wrists together.

"So do I." Frank answered, "He seemed like a nice guy…"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Joe hit the ground. He didn't know from what direction the gunfire was from, but he did know it was meant to kill― _him_.

He continued to stay pressed to the ground, determined to stay alive.

There was a pause. Joe figured the gunman was reloading. He took that chance to run into a thicket of dense shrubbery.

He heard a man's muffled curse as footsteps echoed after him.

Joe continued to run. _No way are they going to catch me_ ― Joe tripped over a root― _now._

His face hit the exposed earth, hard. He bounced back up and continued to run. The running footfalls of his pursuer drew nearer.

Joe hastened to a sprint. He tasted blood and dust as the cut on his lip continued to bleed. His injured leg began to act up again causing Joe to half limp, half run farther into the woods.

He didn't know for sure where he was headed, but he did know that if the gunman found him, there wouldn't be a chance to go anywhere.

He looked back to see if he could estimate the gunman's whereabouts and nearly ran into the chain-link fence.

He took a left and continued to sprint along the fence.

A bullet flew past his ear. Another shot sounded.

Joe tumbled to the ground as pain sliced through his right leg. Dizziness over passed him as he was enveloped in inky darkness.

……

Frank was the first to hear the approaching footsteps. He grabbed the chair he had been bound to earlier and positioned himself beside the door.

Charity and her two friends ran to opposite walls, each arming themselves with a piece of antique furniture.

The door opened. A lifeless form was carelessly pitched though the doorway.

The body hit the floor with bone cracking force. The victim's blonde hair was messed and stuck out at awkward angles.

The door slammed closed before Frank could act.

Charity rushed to the still form sprawled out on the floor, "Joe!"

"Joe?" Frank was at her side in an instant. "Joe, are you alright?"

Joe didn't answer.

"Joe, wake up. Joe." Though Charity's tone was harsh Frank could tell she was concerned, "Is he―?"

Frank lifted his brother's limp wrist and felt for a pulse. "He's still alive, just unconscious."

"I know First AID."

Frank turned. Ross now knelt beside him.

"W-well I know he's just one of those Hardy brothers, but I wouldn't wish anyone to die." Ross gave Frank a nervous grin.

"Who's dying?" Joe's blue eyes eased open slowly. "Frank?"

Mike gave Frank a knowing look. "You weren't kidding. Either this guy hit his head a little too hard or you _are _his brother." His dark eyes narrowed.

Frank ignored the comment. "You okay, kid?" He said, trying to stay in character.

Joe gave Frank a confused look. "They must have hit you real hard, Frank. Seems your memory's going. You haven't called me 'kid' since kindergarten."

"Alright, that's it!" Frank turned to see Mike holding the scarred chair high above his head. "That ain't Fred Brady, Miss Charity. That's Frank Hardy impersonating him!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Now, Mike. No need to get violent." Charity slowly rose to her feet and began inching toward the angered man, "I've known this whole time he wasn't Fred Brady. Actually, for all I know 'Fred Brady' doesn't exist!"

Ross looked as if he had been slapped across the face. "W-what?"

"What are you saying, Miss Charity?" Mike's grip on the chair relaxed slightly.

"What I'm saying is, Frank and Joe are my _friends_."

"Why didn't you mention that before?" Mike asked.

Charity shrugged.

"If he's your friend why did you want to kidnap him and tie him to a chair?" Mike still gripped the chair, but Frank wasn't sure if he'd still use it.

Charity ignored the question. "Put that chair down, Mike." She demanded.

Mike did as he was told.

Charity breathed out a sigh of relief, "Thank you. Now―"

The door crashed open.

Two gunmen entered, their guns trained on the five captives.

Frank and Joe leapt to their feet.

"Hold it!" The first gunman pointed the deadly rifle in their direction. "Don't try anything stupid. Out the door! Both of you!" He barked, shoving the gun barrel into Joe's ribs causing him to wince in pain.

Frank and Joe reluctantly complied.

They were led down a hallway. The walls had been stripped bare of their paintings. Joe frowned. _So much for returning them to their rightful owners, _he thought.

They were herded into a large room lined with bookshelves and filled with file cabinets. A large desk occupied the center of the room with several large overstuffed chairs surrounding it. Frank guessed it to be an office or library of some sort.

The two brothers were forced into chairs facing the large mahogany desk. A gunman was stationed directly behind each Hardy brother and at the door and windows.

The man behind the desk glowered. A cruel smile shaped his lips. He was dressed in a rich, business suit, with thick, black eyebrows and a sophistically waxed mustache.

"The Hardy Boys, I presume." He spat each word out as if it held a bitter taste.

Frank and Joe glared at their captor.

The man frowned. "It has been called to my attention that you know the very whereabouts of a certain Chinese vase?"

Frank raised an eyebrow and stole a glace at his younger brother. Joe scowled at the man, his blue eyes were cold and his mouth was set in a thin line.

Though he didn't receive an answer, the man continued, "I am willing to make an offer you _can't_ refuse."

"Try us, we just might." Joe continued to glare at his captor.

The man raised his arm and snapped his fingers.

Joe winced in pain as a guard forcefully backhanded him across the face.

"As you see, I don't take kindly to mouthy responses." The man grinned wickedly, "And I am willing to inflict great pain when necessary."

Frank spoke up firmly, "Your offer, sir?"

"Oh yes. It is good to see that at least one of you Hardys have some sense." He glanced at Joe, then leaned back in his chair, "If you have not already guessed, I want that vase." He leveled his gaze with Frank's. "I am willing to let you free and fetch it for me."

"How can you be sure we'll come back?" Frank asked. He met the man's stare head on.

"Easy. I'm only going to send one of you back to Bayport. If the one sent fails to return in three days or contacts the police in anyway, the other will be killed."

"How can you be sure I won't contact the police?" Joe challenged.

The man chuckled evilly, "So you have already decided you're going?"

Frank stole a glance at his brother. Joe looked determined. Too determined.

"One of my men will accompany you. If any contact is made, I'll be sure to know about it." The man continued, fiddling with the waxed edges of his moustache.

Joe frowned. The plan was foolproof, but maybe _not_ Hardy proof.

"Can we discuss who will go?" Frank asked politely, "Privately?"

"Of course. Gentlemen?" The man began walking toward the door. The gunman followed, backing away toward the door, their guns trained on the two Hardy brothers. "You have five minutes. Oh, and might I remind you this place is crawling with guards, so don't try to escape."

The door closed firmly behind them, trapping the Hardy's inside.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"I got us into this mess, it's only fair that I go." Joe rose to his feet and waltzed over to a window. He reached for the latch. _Keep talking_, he mouthed the words to his brother.

Frank got the message, "I should go. I'm the oldest, not to mention I keep a cooler head when it comes to these sorts of things."

"Age has nothing to do with it!" Though his tone sounded harsh, Joe wasn't even angry. He grinned as the window began to creep upward.

"But what about your ankle? I saw you limping. You're in no condition to travel!" Frank stealthily rose from his place on the sofa and joined his brother at the window.

"I've been in worse situations before!" Joe yelled back masking the sound as Frank ripped the screen from the window frame.

"Joe, calm down!" It took Frank almost all his strength to keep from laughing. This was working out perfectly! _Perhaps Joe and I should consider acting,_ Frank thought to himself.

Joe took a few dramatic breaths, "Fine. How do you propose we settle this civilly?" He clasped the window at the top and slipped out.

"We'll flip a coin. Your call."

"Heads!" Joe threw his voice so it would appear that he were still inside.

Frank tossed the quarter he had removed from his pocket. Letting it hit the floor, "Tails, I win."

Frank slipped through the window and followed his younger brother as they crawled, on their stomachs, through the underbrush carrying themselves farther and farther from the mansion.

By the time they had reached the front gate the two boys were exhausted.

Hidden from view, Frank took a quick glance at his watch. Seven thirty-two. Their five minutes were long from over. Frank couldn't help but grin thinking about the smugglers, returning to the room and finding it empty, with only a lone shining quarter on the floor.

"Frank," Joe whispered so quietly Frank had hardly heard him.

"Hmm?"

"How do you propose we get past these bozos?"

Frank knew immediately of whom Joe was referring. Two muscular guards were stationed at either side of the estate's entrance. He searched for things they could use to their advantage.

He saw a wheelbarrow and tarp sitting up against a tree about two yards away. He quietly composed his plan of action.

"Alright, Joe. Here's what we'll do…"

……

A young boy in tattered clothing approached the gate. His messy brown hair stuck out at odd ankles and his dirty white T-shirt looked rugged and worn. He was pushing a wheelbarrow containing, the guards didn't know what. It was covered with a black tarp.

"Sorry sir, you can't come through here." A guard stepped forward, blocking the boy's way.

"But the boss told me to bring this cargo out to the ship." The boys voice was gruff and angry. The guards didn't know what to think, so they let him through.

They watched as the man traveled down the dirt trail into the dense woods and toward the docks. They continued to watch him until he disappeared from sight.

"Strange." Said the first guard after a moment's silence, "That kid looked a lot like Frank Hardy…"

……

Joe leapt out of the wheelbarrow, giving his brother a high five. "Great work, Frank!"

Frank grinned, "I knew it would work." He said in the same gravely tone.

Joe playfully punched him in the arm.

"But we're not out of the woods yet." Frank reminded him, "We've still got to get back to the mainland and contact the authorities so that they can retrieve the others."

After a large bit of thought, Frank and Joe had decided they would be more successful in escaping alone and bringing back help.

"Wonderful plan."

The two brothers spun around to find themselves looking down the barrel of a gun.

"It's too bad you won't ever tell the police."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"So I see the Hardy Houdinis were trying a disappearing act?"

The two brothers again found themselves in chairs facing the rich man. He smiled cruelly. "Though you should be punished, I won't. I'm surprised you got as far as you did. I have clearly underestimated you two. You are very clever to have come up with that 'wheelbarrow scheme'."

The two Hardy brothers continued to glare at their adversary.

He retrieved a quarter from off the top of his desk and tossed it. Catching it again before it hit the desktop. "I'm still willing to go through with my plan providing you try no more tricks…" He stuffed the quarter into his pocket.

The Hardys didn't answer, but the ringleader didn't mind.

"So?" he scoffed, "Who will it be?"

"I'll go," Both boys said at once.

The man began to chuckle evilly, "You can't both go…" He fiddled with the ends of his mustache, "Who won the coin flip?" He said at last.

"I did." Frank answered simply.

Joe crossed his arms and frowned.

"Then you will go. Bart?" He motioned toward a man in the back of the room, "You will accompany Mr. Hardy on his quest, and gentlemen," he motioned to the gunmen occupying the room, "Please see to it that Joe is comfortable during his stay here." He smiled wickedly as two gunmen shoved their gun barrels into Joe's back as they herded him out the door.

……

Charity kicked the door in frustration. "It isn't fair! That vase is mine! Those thugs had no business taking it!"

"Cool it, sis." Ross sat in the middle of the room, legs crossed. He looked about the room for Mike and saw his friend leaning against a far wall, "It's not like kicking the door is going to do any good."

Charity spun around to face him, "Don't you think I know that?" She scowled at him, "For sixteen, you sure are annoying!"

Mike tried to hide a smile.

"What are you smiling at?" Charity demanded. She hated being shut in. Jail seemed almost inviting after this ordeal.

Ross stood and walked over to a far corner of the room, chuckling.

Charity rolled her eyes, but watched him as he carefully began to peel the carpet from the floor. "What are you doing?" She rushed over to his side, "I paid good money for that carpet!"

"Like I said, sis. Cool it."

Charity continued to watch in horror as Ross continued to peel the carpet away. He soon exposed a wooden floor hidden underneath.

"Hey, Mike. Hand me that cabinet handle!" Ross continued to pull away the carpet and matting.

Mike did as he was instructed. He began unscrewing a long, brass handle from the antique cabinet.

"What are you doing? Stop!" Charity screeched, "That's an antique. Irreplaceable!"

"Charity, shut up!"

The harshness in her brother's words silenced her.

"Your antique collection is not worth our lives." Ross thanked Mike as he handed the youth the cabinet handle. He positioned the flat end if the metal decal between two boards and began to pry a board loose.

Charity watched quietly, though she wasn't at all happy. They were destroying what she worked hardest for. Her home.

……

Frank ran. He had no idea where he was headed but he knew the farther he got the safer he'd be.

He continued on. He could see the vivid outline of the police station up ahead. He prayed Joe would forgive him, knowing right about now his brother would be facing certain death.

After loosing Bart at the docks, Frank decided his best option was to go to the police. There was no way he could stop these guys alone. Frank only hoped Joe would understand.

He had been running for almost three days now. Bart, Frank reasoned, had probably returned to headquarters, telling of Frank's escape. For all Frank knew, Joe was already dead. _And you killed him!_

_No. No. I'm doing the right thing. Joe would do the same in my place. Wouldn't he?_

Frank shook the horrible thoughts from his mind as he reached the front entrance to the station and pulled at the metal door handle. The handle was slippery and cool to his sweaty grasp, but he somehow managed to yank it open.

He plunged inside and hastily rushed over to the front desk. A police officer stood behind it; his back to Frank.

"Uh― excuse me?" Frank's voice sounded small, even to himself.

The officer turned slowly.

Frank's blood ran cold when he saw the man's face.

"Finally come to apologize, Frank?" Joe's tone was venomous and frightening. His face was pale, lifeless. His blue eyes were glazed over, and his blonde hair hung limply on his head.

Frank slowly backed away, his eyes wide with panic. "J-Joe, but I thought you were―"

"Dead? Is that what you wanted, Frank?" Joe's tone crushed him. Frank wished he could take back all he had done. Wished he could have taken another route.

"Is that all I am to you, Frank? Dead?"

Frank continued to back away. "J-Joe, I can explain…"

Joe lifted a pistol from behind the counter and lifted it up, aiming it straight at Frank's heart.

"Can you? How can you explain, leaving your only brother to die?"

Frank's heart leaped into his throat when he spotted the gun. "I had no choice. I-I thought you'd understand…"

"Oh, I understand, Frank. I understand perfectly."

Frank pinched his eyes shut as Joe cocked the lever and fired.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

A loud bang up deck brought Frank back into reality. He shook his head vigorously. And wiped the sleep from his eyes. _What an awful dream!_

It had been years since Frank had had a nightmare, but the reason for this one was all too clear. Whatever happened he _couldn't_ let those crooks kill his brother!

Frank lifted himself from his crumpled position on the wooden floor and slowly rose to his feet. He gently massaged his aching neck muscles. The fresh smell of sizzling bacon and fluffy scrambled eggs awakened Frank's senses immediately.

He slowly climbed up the ladder and crawled on deck. Bart was seated in a wooden crate frying breakfast on a small camping sized grill.

"Here!" Bart tossed a full plate to Frank.

Frank graciously accepted the plate, but didn't start eating until Bart took a bite. _Good, it's not poisoned._

……

It was nearly three by the time Frank and the smuggler reached Bayport Harbor. Frank was exhausted from the trip, but determination gave him strength.

The brother's black van was still in the parking lot. Frank removed a key ring from his pocket and fitted a key to the lock. Bart entered the passenger side of the vehicle.

Frank started up the engine and pulled out of the lot.

"You know," He spoke up. His voice sounded stronger then he felt, "We're headed to my house. What am I going to tell my parents when Joe's not with me?"

Bart just smiled at the question, "You're a smart kid. I'm sure you'll think of something."

But Frank couldn't think of something. He prayed nobody would be home. He pulled into the front driveway and turned off the engine.

The house was dark. Frank sighed in relief. Bart gave him an odd look.

"Uh― you can stay here, Bart. I'll be right back." Frank undid his seat belt and unlocked the door.

"No way!" Bart disagreed, "I'm coming with you."

The two entered the house. Frank walked into the kitchen and noticed the red light on the answering machine was blinking. As he neared the phone he noticed something scrawled on the legal pad close by.

_Frank and Joe,_

_Something's come up so Gertrude and I will be out of town for a few weeks. There should be plenty of leftovers and sandwich makings in the fridge to last you the week. Feel free to order out. Hugs and Kisses. _

_-Mom_

Frank frowned. _So much for alerting Dad._ He pressed the button on the answering machine.

"Hi, _Dad_, Mom, Aunt Gertrude." Joe's cheerful voice echoed through the house, "Greetings from the Hawaiian _island_s! _Sorry_ _we didn't call_ earlier, but _we've been_ _tied_ _up_ having fun _in the_ _tropics_. Sorry for such short notice. I hope _we're_ not _in trouble_, but Frank and I have been dying to go on vacation and when the opportunity came up to go on one for cheep, we jumped at the chance! Love you and see you next week, _bye_!" Click. The message ended.

Frank had to hold back a smile. It didn't take a genius to notice how Joe emphasized some words in the message more then others forming a coded message. _Dad_. _Island._ _Sorry_ _we didn't call. We've been_ _tied_ _up_ _in the_ _tropics_. _We're in trouble. Bye._

Bart didn't seem to have heard the message. He removed a large red apple from a fruit bowl on the counter and took a bite. "Well, where is it?"

"Just a minute, just a minute." Frank opened a cupboard and removed a brown box from the very back of the cabinet. "Here." He handed the small box to Bart.

"This is it?" Bart asked. He examined the box carefully.

"Sure is. Why?" Frank closed the cabinet and followed Bart out of the house and back into the van.

"I thought it was bigger then this." Bart still held the box. He neglected to re-buckle his seatbelt.

Frank frowned. He started the engine and backed out from the driveway.

……

Joe wrestled with the bonds that held his wrists. This was definitely not his day. In fact it hadn't really been his week either.

Charity stared at him from a nearby chair, where she and her brother were tied back-to-back. "Any luck?" she asked.

Joe shook his head. "No use, they tied these knots tight enough to hold an elephant hostage."

"Do you think Frank will come back for us?" Ross asked.

"I doubt it." Mike answered, "He's probably half way to China by now with that vase."

Joe frowned, "Frank's not like that! Of course he'll be back."

Mike glared at Joe, "That's what you think!"

Joe returned the stare. He tried to think of a way out of his current predicament. The smugglers had made certain that the teens couldn't escape. Each were tied to a chair and to one other person. Not to mention their feet were also tied to the chair legs and the chairs were bolted to the ground. It was all courteously of Mike and Ross's earlier escape scheme. The bad guys didn't want any of them to be able to pry up any more floorboards, and therefore made all of them immobile.

Joe began to wonder how Frank would handle the situation. _He'd keep a clear mind_, Joe decided, but he soon found himself wondering if that was at all possible at the moment.

"This wasn't supposed to happen!" Charity pouted.

"It wasn't?" Joe replied sarcastically, "I thought this was all part of your sneaky little diabolical plan!"

"Oh, shut up!" She shrieked. "I don't see you coming up with any brilliant ideas!" She smirked, "Little did you know, as you three carried on your little conversation, I've been hard at work." The ropes fell to her sides as she began sawing at the one's that held her feet with a pocketknife secured in her left hand.

Joe looked at the sharp object with surprise. "What? How did you ?"

She cut him off, "Never go anywhere unprepared." She smirked again and then untied her brother. Ross smiled at her and the two them walked towards the door.

"Hey, what about us?" Mike asked.

Charity turned, "You're no help to me anymore, Mike." She answered sharply. "And Joe just continues to make things difficult." She winked at Joe.

Joe rolled his eyes. He should have known Charity would leave them there.

"I'll come back for you once I get my house back." She added as she closed the door behind her.

Mike stared at the closed door. "Now what?"

Joe shrugged. "We sit here and wait."

"Wait?" Mike's voice rose. "What for? If you Hardys are so smart, why don't you untie yourself?"

"I would, Mike." Joe answered calmly, "But unfortunately, not all of us remembered to pack a pocket knife."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Frank reviewed his plan of action. Once reaching the island he'd go with Bart to deliver the vase.

While everyone's attention was on the vase, Frank would make a break for the door and find his brother. The two would then sneak out to the harbor, sabotage all but one of the boats, take the running one and radio the coast guard and the police.

Frank frowned. It wasn't one of his most brilliant plans, but it was the only way he could even possibly save his brother. Frank only hoped everything went right…

The two reached the island just as the sun was making it's decent. Frank and Bart quickly climbed off the craft and ran up to the house.

The office door was open, so Frank and Bart let themselves in. It was empty.

Actually the more Frank thought about it, the whole house seemed empty. He began searching the room.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Bart wanted to know.

Frank ignored his question and continued to look around the small office.

Suddenly he was aware of a faint ticking sound. It sounded like a clock, but no clock was visible.

"Where do you think everyone is?" Bart walked into the middle of the room and collapsed in one of the chairs. The box containing the vase was still clasped tightly in his hands.

Frank shushed him and crept over to the other side of the desk. The ticking grew louder. Then he saw it.

It was a time bomb and if Frank were correct, they only had thirty seconds to make it out of the house before it went up in smoke.

"Come on!" Frank shouted to Bart as he ran for the door.

"Hey, stop!" Bart ordered chasing after him.

Frank raced down the hall and reached for the front door praying that it would be unlocked. He grasped the handle. It didn't turn. They were locked in!

He rushed frantically to a window. The glass refused to slide up. He groaned hitting his fist against the pane in frustration.

"I said stop!" Bart was now at the bottom of the stairs, a deadly gun in hand pointing strait at Frank's heart.

Frank froze.

"One false move and I'll shoot!" Bart warned, glaring at the older Hardy.

Frank knew he meant what he said, but took the chance anyway. Frank ran toward his assailant and dove under a table, just before the gun went off and the house erupted into flames.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Joe turned away when he heard the explosion. He had seen Frank and Bart enter the house just before it burst into flames. He shuttered as a wave of grief passed over him. Frank was dead and Charity had killed him.

Charity walked by him and smiled her sweetest smile.

Joe glared at her. He had known her to do some pretty crazy things, but never had he expected her to blow up her own house with his brother and over a hundred men inside. The whole ordeal sickened him and for once in his life, he felt himself hating her for what she had done.

Charity caught his look of disgust and sauntered over to him. "Joe," her voice held a hint of hurt, "Don't be mad at me, they were criminals, they got what they deserved."

Joe glowered. Sure, the men where criminals, but that didn't give Charity the right to take the law into her own hands. Not only that, but Frank wasn't a criminal and he had died too.

"Not Frank." He croaked in barely a whisper. The reality of loosing his brother swept over him in a wave of anguish and sorrow.

She paused and looked at him, shocked, "But Frank wasn't in the "

Joe nodded, refusing to meet her gaze.

"But that's impossible! He was gone. He couldn't possibly have been oh Joe! I'm so sorry!"

If not for all the mixed emotions swelling inside of him, Joe would've thought she meant it. But right now he felt nothing but hate towards the redhead.

Seeing that he wasn't in the mood for pity, Charity walked away from him and over to a painting that sat on the cave's rock floor. It was the 'Scream' painting he had seen earlier hanging on the mansion's wall. Seeing it there, confirmed Joe's suspicions. It wasn't a fake.

Neither were all the other artifacts stashed away in the small space. Ross sat on the floor admiring a long strand of shiny pearls. Joe hated seeing a boy his age admiring anything with such greed.

Mike stood at the cave's entrance watching as the rest of the house burn to the ground. He didn't seem the least bit disturbed by the sight.

Joe frowned, and for the first time in years… he cried.

……

Frank slowly opened his eyes. The smell of smoke and burning wood awakened his senses, causing him to look around. He was still under the sturdy wooden table he had dove beneath. He was thankful that he and Bart had made it to the front hall before the bomb went off. All that had fallen upon him and the table was the roof and the bomb had luckily been far enough away as to not have blasted him to kingdom come.

Sudden, burning pain in Frank's hand caused him to pull it up from the floor. A smoldering piece of wood sizzled and crackled from where his hand had been. He wasn't out of the woods yet, he needed to get out of the burning wreckage alive.

Frank was surrounded by debris and several pieces of rubble blocked the sides of the table, many of them hot and smoldering. Frank quickly pushed against a section of roof to his left and watched in pleasure as it tumbled over.

A plume of smoke flew under the table stinging at Frank's eyes and causing him to cough. He put and hand in front of him and crawled out from under the table. Around him, only a skeleton of the mansion remained. _It's a wonder I'm even alive._ He thought glumly. He tested the floor in front of him to find it was still sturdy. Carefully, he began to inch his way towards the outside lawn.

Frank had little space to cover and as soon as he reached the grass, he collapsed and greedily gulped in a lungful of air. Smoke came with the air. He coughed and rolled farther away from the wreckage. He was alive! He looked back at the mansion and his heart sunk. The entire house was in shambles. Everything was smoldering or blackened by the fire. Even the metal fence, that had once surrounded the back of the property, was bent. Frank began to wonder about the guards. Had they been inside when the blast went off? He didn't see any of them around.

It had truly been a miracle he had survived the blast. He saw no sign of Bart, his brother, or anyone else. Frank surmised he was the only survivor.

Joe. He had been in the house when Frank had left. He, Ross, Mike and Charity were all prisoners in the closed room. He doubted they had survived the blast, but if they had, being on the first floor, they would be trapped under a great deal of rubble. They would be near impossible to reach, but he had to try.

Frank unsteadily got to his feet and stumbled back towards the wreckage, but a second blast sent him sprawling into a bush. He put his hands up to protect his face. Glass and fragments of the mansion rained down on him.

When everything settled, Frank opened one eye slowly. His arms burned and prickled. Any hope of Joe and the rest's survival seemed non-existent. _You'll never reach them in time or die trying_, reason knocked at his brain. Though he hated to admit it, he knew it was true. Joe and Charity were dead, and with them several smugglers and the man with the moustache. He best get away from the ruins in case of another explosion, and find a way to help.

An image of a floatplane entered his head. Of course, Charity had mentioned one earlier while they were tied up in the secret room. She had told Ross, if all else failed, they could escape the island by plane. That, of course had been before Joe was delivered to them, battered and beaten. But where would the plane be?

Frank decided to check down by the water where the boats were docked. Then slowly, he wobbled to his feet and stumbled into the woods. He'd find the plane, he'd fly to the nearest town for help, and then he'd find whoever planted that bomb and killed his brother. Even if he killed himself trying.

……

"Well that's it." Charity looked up at the large ship with pride, "About all the artifacts are safely stored aboard!" She turned to Joe, still strapped to a chair and sitting on the dock. He could no longer see the smoldering ruins that had one been the mansion. Trees from the woods blocked his view.

"And this is where we say good-bye." Charity sighed dramatically and walked over to Joe, stooping slightly so that her eyes met his, "Bye, Joe, I'll miss you." She lightly kissed him on the cheek. Joe couldn't imagine how she could be so cheery, after what had happened.

He glared at her. Two times she had escaped imprisonment and it looked like she was about to slip through his fingers again. _Mark my words_, Joe thought bitterly, _One day all your crimes will catch up to you Charity, and not a soul will bat an eye when you're thrown in prison for a life sentence._

Not knowing what he was thinking, Charity smiled at him one last time and then joined her brother and Mike on the boat. She waved to him as it began to pull away.

Joe wouldn't have waved even if he could have. He just sat still glaring at the departing ship, his lips set in a straight line. His mind on Frank and justice.

Well, at least they had left him alive. That happy thought was short lived, however. Tied to a chair, Joe had no way to get off the dock, let alone find shelter. His rumbling stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten much of anything since those blueberry muffins on the ship earlier that day. Food, though, meant little to him. His brother was dead and Joe dreaded telling his parents. That is if he lived to do so.

He closed his eyes, trying to compose some sort of plan of action. What would Frank do in a situation like this? Joe let out a long sigh. Frank. Frank was dead. Frank was no longer there to help him.

"Psst!"

Joe's eyes snapped open. "What in the―"

"Joe. Over here!"

"Frank?" Joe glanced to the right. It couldn't be, "Frank!" Joe spotted his brother half concealed in some bushes. He was covered on soot and a small scratch above his right brow was bleeding, but other than that, he seemed fine.

"Hey, pipe down!" Frank whispered, "You alone?"

Joe nodded, "Yeah. Frank, I thought you were―"

"Dead? Yeah, you too." Frank crept out of the bushes and began working on the ropes that held Joe's wrists. "How'd you get out of the house?"

Joe frowned, "Courtesy of Charity and her loonies." He rubbed his wrists once Frank had freed them.

"Is she the one who set the bomb?" Frank asked. He began to work on the bonds that held Joe's feet.

Joe nodded, "Unfortunately."

Frank frowned and concentrated on releasing the knot that held his brother's ankles.

Minutes later, Joe was freed. The two brothers stood on the dock looking out to sea.

"So, how did you escape the house? I saw you go inside. I thought you were a goner."

Frank grimaced, "Yeah. Me too."

"What happened?"

Frank relayed the details of the event with his brother. Joe nodded grimly. They had been awfully lucky the last few days.

"What about Charity?" Frank asked, when he had finished. "What happened to her?"

Joe frowned, "She, Mike and her kid brother loaded up a ship with a ton of the valuables and set sail for who-knows-where. They left not long before you found me."

Frank didn't look happy. "Well? I guess that's it, huh? We lost her, again."

"Yeah." Joe angrily kicked one of the wooden posts of the dock, thinking back to Charity and her farewell. He hated giving up. He wished that for once, they'd capture her, especially now, since she blew up a hundred men. He thought about Ross. What did he think of his sister's life of crime? Where were his parents? "Hey, Frank?"

Frank sat silently. He sat on the edge of the dock, his feet dangling above the water. Joe soon joined him and decided to try again. "Hey, Frank?"

No answer.

Joe began to get frustrated, "Frank, what's your problem? Why are you just sitting there? Why don't you say something? Are you okay? I mean, you look terrible, but "

"Shhh!" Frank silenced him.

It is then, Joe heard it. The faint whirl of a propeller. A helicopter was somewhere nearby. "Frank?" He whispered.

"Quick! In the bushes!" Frank stood up on the dock.

"But what if they're coming to help us?"

"They could be more of Charity's buddies or even enemies. Both are not good."

Joe couldn't help but agree. He and Frank instantly ran down the dock and hid amidst the brush at the edge of the forest. The helicopter appeared moments later. They watched as it hovered around the island and then as it landed in a clearing on the beach. Two men hopped out.

"Can you see who it is?" Joe whispered to his brother.

"No, they're too far away. We'll need to move closer."

"But how? All we've got for concealment is these woods here and they're way out on the beach?"

Frank thought for a moment. His brother had a good point. They'd have to wait for the men to get to them.

They didn't have to wait long, for soon the men reached the smoldering shambles of the house.

"Come on." Frank whispered to his brother as he began to stealthily move through the brush and closer towards the mansion. They stopped in a clump of bushed near a far corner of the burning ruins. The men where now close enough that Joe and Frank could see and hear them clearly.

"Looks like that pilot was right, someone's house blew up." Said the first man. He wore thick-framed glasses and Frank suspected he was in his mid-forties.

"We'd better call it in and then see if there's anyone around." The second man took a radio out of his coat pocket. "Keep an eye open."

The first man nodded.

The second put the radio up close to his lips, "This is Rodden to base, come in base, over."

A static-chocked reply soon came over the radio. "Base here. What's up? Did you find the source of the explosion?"

"Affirmative. We're on an island coordinates…um…" Rodden looked at his watch, "Lat 40.476203, and Long -73.082428. Seems to have been a structure explosion. Unknown cause. Over."

"I will check island registration. Stand by. Over."

Frank watched as Rodden placed the radio back into his pocket and then turned to the man with the glasses.

"I heard." Said the glasses man. He and Rodden began to walk around the perimeter of the wreckage.

"I wonder what happened here?"

"Hard to say. I sure hope nobody was inside."

"Not very likely, look there!"

Frank's eyes snapped to where the man pointed. A human hand lay burnt and disfigured on the wreckage. _Bart?_ Frank wondered and shuttered.

"Egh! We'll have to get a medical team out here. Looks like a casualty." Rodden spoke.

"I wonder who it is?"

"Probably the owner. We'll find out soon enough."

As if hearing Rodden's reply, the radio crackled again. "Base to Rodden. Come in."

Rodden pulled it out. "This is Rodden. What have you got for me?"

"The island is registered to a Susan C. Grayson, USA. She bought it a couple of months ago and built a multi-million-dollar house on it."

"Well, the house is gone."

"Did you find anything else?"

"Yeah, you'll have to send more people out here. We found some guy, or rather, his hand in the rubble. It's pretty gruesome. The fire's still burning as well, but it seems pretty contained. Not spreading to the trees or anything." Rodden's eyes swept across the clearing.

Frank and Joe ducked farther into the bushes.

"Okay. We'll send out help immediately. Over and out."

"Roger that. Rodden out." Rodden returned the radio to his coat pocket.

"Well?" Glasses looked at him.

"Roy said he's sending reinforcements. We'll wait. It won't be long now."

……

By this time, Frank and Joe had walked a considerable amount away from the men to talk. They came to a small clearing and Joe sat on a fallen log. "Well?" He looked to Frank, "Think those guys are legit?"

Frank thought for a moment. "I don't know…"

"You're growing too suspicious, Frank. They have no way of knowing we're here. Who's to say they're not help from an outside source, like the coastguard?"

Frank had to admit, his brother had a point, but he wasn't willing to give in so soon. "Joe, you mentioned Charity left with a lot of the valuables from the mansion, right?"

"Right."

"Where are the rest?"

"In a cave, up on that ridge. You can see the entire mansion from there and part of the estate."

"They're safe then. No one will find them?"

Joe shook his head, "No. You'd have to be searching for them. It's a pretty nifty hiding spot." Joe paused, "Why?"

"Just in case those guys are frauds, I want to make sure the rest of the loot won't fall into the wrong hands."

Joe nodded.

"Hey, Joe? How would you like to catch Charity?"

Joe looked up at frank. "Oh, would I ever!"

"Good. We'll do that first."

"What about these guys?"

"If they're legit, they'll be getting the proper reinforcements to secure this crime scene, if not, well, there are probably no survivors and the valuables seem to be in a safe hiding place… either way, Charity is getting farther and farther away and she needs to be stopped."

"Agreed, but how are we supposed to capture Charity? She's already on the high seas headed who-knows-where. At the very least we need a plane or something to catch her."

Frank nodded, "I've already got that part figured out." Joe told Joe about the floatplane.

"Terrific! Where is it?"

"Seeing as it doesn't seem to be moored over here, my best guess is that it's over on the other side of the island."

"Okay, then. We'd better get going."

Frank nodded, "Just be cautious. We can't automatically assume I'm the only survivor of the blast, some of the guards by the back fence could still be around, maybe even hiding out in the woods."

"Aye, aye, captain!"

Frank smiled at his brother's attempt to ease the tension and led the way as they made their way towards the back of the small island. He hoped he had been right about the plane. All chance of catching Charity lay on finding that plane and if it was no longer there, or had been taken by somebody else, Charity would have escaped them again.

_Charity._ Frank sighed. The last thing he wanted was for her to escape. Regardless of what happened, he vowed to catch her and make sure she went to prison. This, after all, was where she belonged.

"Um, Frank?"

Frank paused at the sound of his brother's voice and froze when he spotted the man that stood in front of them gun drawn and a wicked smile on his face.

"Hello, Hardy Boys."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Frank hated it when things happened like this. Especially when he didn't feel so good and there was an aching scrape on his forehead. He glanced quickly at Joe. Joe's fists were clenched at his sides and Frank knew he was ready for a fight.

"What do you want?" Frank leveled a no-nonsense gaze at the gunman. The guy's mustache was still waxed and intact, though his clothes were dirty and a bit soot spotted. Frank wondered how he had escaped the house. He had obviously not been in it when it exploded. Actually, now that Frank thought about it, he and Bart hadn't seen a single soul when they had first entered the mansion.

The man's face broke in to a menacing grin. "You know very well what I want, Mr. Hardy. I want the vase."

Frank hated that. It seemed like all anybody ever wanted anymore was 'that vase'.

"We don't have it." Joe's voice came from behind him. Joe was angry, Frank could tell. Not that he blamed him. After all that happened the last few days, the last thing Frank needed was another streak of bad luck.

"No, but Frank knows where it is? Don't you, Frank?" The man looked to the older Hardy, "After all, that was the whole purpose of sending you and Bart back to Bayport now wasn't it?"

Frank frowned, "Joe's right. We don't have the vase. Bart was carrying it when we entered the mansion."

The man frowned. "You're lying."

"It's the truth. Bart and I both went to your office, that's where we discovered the bomb. The timer ran out before we were able to get out."

"Then Bart and the vase are "

"That's right. Gone."

The man seemed sad at first and then in deep thought. Frank motioned silently to his brother to move, but just as soon as the Hardys took a step forward the man's gaze snapped back up. "You're lying!" The gun was now shaking in his hand as he held it up. "Where's the vase? Where is it?"

Frank wasn't sure what to say. This guy was insane.

"Come on, I don't have all day! Tell me where the vase is a-and I'll let you go."

"Frank?" Joe spoke.

Frank looked to his brother, then back at the gunman. "I don't have the vase, sir. It blew up in the explosion."

The man didn't seem to know what he was doing anymore. He looked to Frank and then to Joe, breathing quickly and moving the gun from one brother to the next. Frank wished he would stop. It was making him nervous.

"This way! I think I heard something over here!"

Both the Hardys and the man froze at the sound of Rodden's voice.

"Who is that?" Demanded the gunman.

"Oh, nobody…" Joe jeered, "Just the police!"

"The police?" The man paled.

Frank was thankful his brother's sense of humor was still intact, regardless of the danger they were in. It made it easier for him to think. Regardless of whether Joe's statement were true and those two men with the helicopter really were police, Rodden and his pal probably weren't far away. If he and Joe were going to make it to the plane, they'd have to do it now.

"Joe?" Frank looked to his brother and Joe nodded, getting the message. They'd have to work fast. Then, simultaneously, they ran at the gunman.

"S-stop!" He ordered and frightfully pulled the trigger. The gun clicked, but didn't' go off. The man looked at the gun in shock. Frank guessed it was out of bullets.

"This is for tying me like a prized pig to a chair--" Joe paused a moment and pulled back his arm to punch the guy in the jaw. He wanted to make sure the guys wouldn't follow then, but Frank didn't see the need. The guy was obviously still in shock.

"Joe! Come on!" Frank called to him, a bit annoyed at his brother's display of immaturity, "We don't have the time!"

Joe frowned, dropped his arm and followed Frank without protest. He realized they were short on time and needed to get to that plane--- fast! He could deal with the mustached smuggler later. Frank and Joe ran off into the woods.

Not much time later, they heard the gunman come running after them. Frank figured he must have just overcome his shock and noticed that his prisoners were escaping. Luckily for the Hardys, the man wasn't much of a runner and so they soon outdistanced him. Frank only hoped Rodden and his friend would catch up with the gunman before he caught up with them.

"Which way to the beach?" Joe asked as he and Frank continued to run through the dense forest.

"I'm not sure. Just follow me. We're sure to get there soon. I'm positive this island's smaller then we think." Just as he said this, Frank stumbled into a clearing with Joe at his heels. They were on a cliff, about thirty feet up from the beach below.

"What do we do?" Joe asked.

"There must be a trail down to the sand. Look! There's the plane!" Frank pointed farther down the beach where a small boathouse sat by the water. A small wooden dock lay beside it and tied at its end, was the floatplane.

"Stop!" Frank and Joe turned at the sound of the gunman's voice. They could hear him running through the bushes. He wasn't too far behind.

"We need to get down there, and quick!" Joe said, looking back to his brother.

"Let's go this way, I'm sure the cliff will start sloping downward." Frank took off to his left and Joe followed. They entered the woods again and sure enough, not much further on, the cliff began to slope down slowly. Minutes later, they reached a trail leading down to the beach.

"Terrific!" Joe exclaimed as he followed Frank down the path and onto the hot white sand. They ran, with much difficulty, across the beach and over to the dock. Frank sprinted the remaining distance to the plane.

Joe followed, but snuck a look over his shoulder to see Rodden and glasses standing high on the cliff where he and Frank had stood only minutes before. The sun caught on an object Rodden was holding to his eyes. Joe guessed it to be binoculars. The gunman with the mustache, however, was nowhere to be seen. "We'd better be quick, Frank. Rodden and his pal have spotted us."

"This thing better be unlocked." Frank grumbled as he grabbed for the plane door. Both the boys were licensed pilots for small planes, so the fear of flying it didn't exist. The only anxiety now, was whether or not it was unlocked and they could get it off the ground.

"Come on, Frank!"

Frank tugged at the door and it instantly swung open. He hastily climbed aboard. "So far, so good…" He made his way towards the front of the plane.

Joe snuck a look back over his shoulder and saw that Rodden and his pal had disappeared. _This isn't good._ He thought to himself as he untied the floatplane from the dock and then followed Frank aboard the vessel. Frank now sat in the pilot's seat. Joe closed the door.

"Get ready for lift off!" Frank buckled his seatbelt.

"Enough with the drama, get this thing off the ground!" Joe took the seat beside his brother. He strapped on his seatbelt and peered out the window to see the gunman running frantically down the beach. "Be quick, Frank. Mr. Mustache is coming fast!"

"You've got it!" Now at the controls, Frank started the engine. He smiled as the small plane's motor rumbled to life. "Alright. We're in business!" Very carefully, he began to steer away from the dock.

"Stop! Wait! Stop!"

Joe just barely heard the gunman's plea over the sound of the motor. He waved mockingly to him as the man raced up the dock. "Bye bye."

Frank steered the plane further from the dock and soon they were picking up speed. Before long, they were speeding across the lake and moments later, the plane left the water and began rising into the air.

"Alright!" Joe cheered, watching the gunman below shaking his fist at the plane.

Frank didn't smile at his brother's enthusiasm. They weren't out of the woods yet.

"How much fuel have we got?" Joe asked once they had reached a safe altitude. He settled back in his seat.

"Almost a full tank. We'll be okay for a while, providing, we're not too far from dry land."

"Thank goodness!" Joe looked to his brother, "Think we still have time to catch Charity?"

Frank frowned, "Let's hope." Frank took a sharp turn and flew over the island. "Which direction did she go?"

"Um… that way, I think." Joe pointed clumsily with one hand. Frank followed his directions.

Joe then quieted and looked out the window, scanning the waters below for Charity's ship. She had to be caught! She had killed so many people, but then again, Joe was unsure.

He thought back to Frank's conversation with the mustached gunman in the woods. Frank had said that the mansion had been empty when he and Bart had arrived back from Bayport. He thought this strange. _Charity must have done something with all those smugglers_, he thought, recalling the time when she and Ross returned, untied Mike, and had him carry Joe out to the cave.

They had stopped in the office, where Charity had planted the bomb and then Mike had carried him out of the mansion and all the way up to the cave without coming across a single smuggler. What had she done with them? Were they possibly still alive as their boss had been. If so, where were they now?

"There it is."

Frank's voice entered his thoughts, "What? Already?" Joe snapped out of his daydream and peered out the window. He soon spotted the small cargo ship below.

"They seem to be heading east."

"Any idea where the heck we are?"

"I'm guessing we're near New York, considering if Rodden and his pal are law officers, they spoke perfect American English." Said Frank. He grinned, "Not to mention, the GPS shows that we're less than twenty miles from Gilgo Beach."

"Very funny." Joe gave his brother an unamused look, "But seriously, we're that close?"

Frank nodded, "I guess we weren't as far away as we originally thought."

Joe shrugged. "Okay, then, now what? Do you want to try and land this thing?"

"Where? In the middle of the ocean? That's risky." Frank frowned.

"Maybe so, but you can't very well land on deck. Besides, we've got to stop Charity!"

"We could always fly to the nearest city and contact the authorities?"

Joe shook his head. "By the time they get out here, Charity and her friends could be long gone… We could lose them, Frank."

"Good point…" Frank thought a moment. 'Wait, what was I thinking. Let's use the plane's radio. We're sure to reach somebody---"

"This is officer Rodden. We have you in our sights, turn back to the island and land your plane. We repeat. Turn back to the island and land your plane!" The short message came over the small plane's radio.

"What in the---" Joe tried to look out towards the back of their plane.

"Seems Rodden and his buddy are following us." Frank replied glumly.

"Terrific! How are we supposed to catch Charity now?"

"Go back to the island and land your plane!" The warning again came over the radio.

"Frank?"

"Here, take the controls."

"What? Frank, are you crazy?"

"Just do as I say!"

Joe instantly complied and switched seats with his brother. "Now what?"

"Keep flying."

"Do what?"

"Keep flying."

The radio message came again, "This is Rodden to floatplane. Go back to the island and land your plane! This is your last warning! You are under arrest!"


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Frank instantly snatched up the radio. "Officer Rodden?"

"Yes? Who is this?" Came the short reply.

"This is Frank Hardy. I'm in the floatplane ahead of you. I wanted to let you know that we are not going to comply with your request."

Joe looked at his brother uncertainly, but Frank ignored him.

"You have no choice."

"Please, Mr. Rodden. My brother and I are trying to stop a smuggler from escaping. She and two of her comrades are in that cargo ship below us with several stolen pieces of artwork and other artifacts stolen from various museums around the world. We can't let them get away!"

There was a short pause, "Who did you say you were again?"

"Frank Hardy."

"Frank Hardy?" There was another long pause, "What's your father's name?"

Frank frowned, "Fenton, sir. He used to work for the New York City PD. Maybe you know him?" Frank hated using his father's name for gain, but right now, it seemed necessary.

"Yes, I know him."

Frank could tell that officer Rodden was trying to decide whether or not to believe his story. Anyone could claim to be Fenton Hardy's son, but that didn't necessarily mean it was the truth.

As if reading Frank's thoughts, Rodden asked, "Who's with you?"

"My brother, Joe. Please, Mr. Rodden. The best thing you can do right now is contact the coastguard and have them stop that ship. There are hundreds of stolen items on board..."

"Okay." Rodden said at last, his answer short and unsure. "I'll call it in, but if I've found you were lying…"

"It's the truth, sir. If you'd like, we'll head back to the island just as soon as the coast guard arrives."

"No, you'll land at the nearest point on Fire Island. I'll also contact your father."

"That's sounds like a good idea."

"Alright. Rodden, out."

Frank put down the radio.

"Well?" Joe asked, though he had overheard the entire conversation.

"I think he's legit. Let's wait until the coast guard arrived and then see if there's someplace safe for us to land near the _Robert Moses State Park_ lighthouse. That's the nearest plot of land on Fire Island."

Joe nodded. It looked as if things were starting to wrap up. He only hoped that Rodden had been telling the truth.

……

The Hardy Brothers didn't have to wait long for the Coast Guard to arrive. About an hour later, the boats came into view and it wasn't long before they swarmed Charity's ship, surrounding it. Joe would have loved to be there to see the look on Charity's face when the dozens of law officers showed up on her deck. Unfortunately, he wouldn't have the chance.

He and Frank soon left and landed about a mile from the _Robert Moses _lighthouse just off the beach. They both hopped out of the plane and pulled it to shore, beaching it before coming out of the water and up on the sand. Rodden's helicopter landed not far away and Rodden hopped out to meet the Hardys.

"Frank Hardy?" He said as he approached.

Frank took a step forward. "That's me."

Rodden looked them over. His frown remained stationary on his face. "That was a very foolish and dangerous thing you did. I hope you won't do such things in the future."

Joe frowned. _If only he knew…_

"Frank! Joe!"

The Hardy brother's turned at the sound of their names. Fenton Hardy exited a car and left in at the end of the road, running up to his boys on the beach.

"Dad!" The two boys called out in unison as Fenton threw his arms around the boys, when he reached them, in a tight fatherly embrace.

"Hey, dad." Frank said once they had parted. "When did you get back?"

"Not too long ago. You can't imagine how surprised I was when I got a call from the Fire Island PD when I walked in the door, saying that they found you."

"Mr. Hardy?" Rodden stepped forward displaying an open leather case with a badge inside, "Officer Carl Rodden. Fire Island PD. I take it these two really are your sons?"

Fenton Hardy smiled, "Two chips off the old block, eh fellas?"

"Dad!" Joe complained, embarrassed.

Frank laughed.

Rodden's radio cracked. "Base to Rodden. Come in." Rodden took a few steps away to answer the call, giving the Hardy family a strange look. Frank figured he didn't have a sense of humor. "This is Rodden. Come in."

"The coast guard has taken possession of the ship and they're bringing her in to Bayport harbor for unloading."

"Good work. Any sign of people on board?"

"They caught some big guy named Michael Wallis. He was alone."

Frank and Joe exchanged worried glances. Where was Charity?

"Okay, thanks. Rodden out." Rodden put the radio back into his pocket.

"We need to get to port when they bring the ship in." Joe said to Frank.

Frank nodded.

"Wait? What's going on?" Mr. Hardy asked.

"There were three smugglers on that ship." Joe explained. "I saw them when they set off. Charity had left me tied to a chair."

"Charity?" Officer Rodden stepped forward.

Frank nodded, "She's a smuggler we've met up with a couple of times during other cases, but all other times she has gotten away."

"But not this time." Joe added, "She must be hiding somewhere on the ship."

"She and Ross." Frank agreed.

"Ross?"

"Charity's brother."

Mr. Hardy nodded.

Rodden stepped forward, "It seems you boys know an awful lot about this case."

"We should." Joe frowned angrily, "I've been a prisoner for at least a week now!"

"Joe, cool it." Frank directed. "Mr. Rodden, my brother and I would like to accompany you, if we could, to the port. We may be able to find Charity for you."

Rodden looked to Fenton.

"I'd trust my boys." Mr. Hardy said. "They're quite the detectives."

Officer Rodden nodded reluctantly. "Alright. I'll call someone to have them pick up the plane and helicopter and then we can go." Rodden removed his radio from his pocket

"Oh, and one more thing, officer." Frank said. "If we nab Charity, that'll mean you'll have the person who set that house bomb on the island."

Rodden's eyes widened in surprise.

"Speaking of which." Said Joe, looking to his brother, "That one guy's still out there and we still don't know where the rest of his buddies went."

Frank nodded, "That's a good point."

Rodden said, "There should be medical personnel and more officers arriving there now to help Kingston with that mess at the island." He picked up the radio and held it up to his mouth. "Rodden to base. Send some guys down to _Robert Moses State Park_ about a mile south of the lighthouse to pick up a company helicopter and a small yellow float plane..."

……

The Hardys and officer Rodden arrived at the Bayport docks 45 minutes later. The boat hadn't yet arrived, so they waited on the dock. Frank and Joe had each grabbed something to eat on their way out there and ate as they waited. They ate slowly though, being too anxious to think much about hunger.

A half-hour later, the boat pulled into port. It was followed by a coastguard ship that also moored at the dock. Rodden and the Hardys instantly approached the vessel as a gangplank was lowered.

Two officers came down the plank with Mike between them. He was handcuffed and he scowled at the Hardy brothers when he approached.

"Is this Mr. Wallis?" Rodden asked the officers, stopping them.

One nodded.

"Where's Charity?" Joe said , addressing Mike.

Mike frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about, kid."

Joe looked to Frank, but Frank had already turned to one of the officers. "Do we have permission to search the cargo ship, sir?"

The officer looked uncertainly at Rodden.

"It's okay." Said Rodden. "These boys are okay."

The officer then nodded. "Alright. Let's go. I'll take you on board." The Hardys followed him. Rodden stayed behind with the other officer and Mike.

As they approached the ship, a gangplank was lowered and several officers walked off. The Hardys walked up the plank behind their guide who stopped once they reached the deck.

"Alright. So what are you boys searching for?" Asked the officer.

"The remaining two smugglers." Replied Frank matter-of-factly.

The officer looked at him, clearly confused.

Mr. Hardy stepped in to explain, "One of my sons saw the ship depart form the island with three passengers on board. He thinks two of them may be hidden on this ship."

The officer raised an eyebrow, "Well, okay. Look around it you want to, but we're going to be unloading soon, so be quick."

Frank nodded, "Thank you, sir. Come on, Joe." He and his brother headed for the door that would take them below deck. Fenton stayed behind with the officer.

Once they were out of earshot and down in the hallway below deck, Frank turned to Joe. "Alright, Joe. You know Charity best. Where would she hide herself if she wished to escape?"

Joe thought for a moment. He honestly didn't know. All the other times she had escaped, she hadn't been cornered. "She would need to find some way to get off the ship." Joe said." He thought further. Now that they were moored, it would probably be the time Charity would try to make her escape. "She's probably still hiding out and will stay there until the police leave."

"Which implies?" Frank looked at his brother willing for him to continue.

"That she's hiding somewhere they wouldn't think to look."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Uh ---" Where could Charity hide that would never be searched? Where could she hide that would make escape most convention? Then it hit him. "The cargo hold!" Joe said suddenly, "I'll bet she and Ross are hidden in one of the crates. That way, the police themselves would unknowingly remove them from the ship and who knows where they'd go after that?"

"Of course." Agreed Frank. "That way, they would be off the ship and far away before anyone suspected anything."

"Come on! We need to be quick! You know what the officer said. Anytime now they're going to be removing the items off this ship. We need to get to Charity before they do, or she's sure to get away!"

Frank nodded. "Alright, which way?"

"Um… here!" Joe raced down the hall with Frank at his heels. They found a staircase at the end and soon reached the cargo hold. Joe flung open the door and looked in. The place was crowded with crates of all different sizes.

"Oh no!"

"Don't give up. Come on, start opening up containers. She's sure to be in here somewhere." Joe hastily ran to the nearest crate and pulled at the lid. "It's nailed shut!"

"Goodnight!" Frank exclaimed in despair. "He looked around frantically for something to use. He spotted a crowbar in the corner, sitting on top of one of the crates. "Here!" He snatched up the tool and tossed it to Joe.

Joe caught it and began wrenching the top of the crate open. Once he got all the nails out he threw the lid off to the side. "Nope. Only paintings."

"Well, keep searching!"

Joe opened another crate. No Charity. This was getting frustrating. "This is going to take forever!" He complained.

"Don't give up. We haven't much time "

It is then they heard the approaching footsteps. Someone was coming down the hall!

"Quick! Put the lids back on and hide the crowbar!" Frank directed.

But there wasn't anytime. They were caught.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"What are you boys doing down here?" Said the first officer that entered the room. His eyes settled on the open crates. He frowned.

Frank stepped forward, "We're um… searching for a criminal, sir." Though it was the truth, Frank felt stupid saying it. The phrase sounded so juvenile.

"Searching for a criminal?" Another police officer stepped into view.

"Um… Officer Rodden told us we could search the ship."

The name 'Officer Rodden' seemed to settle the man's nerves. "Officer, Rodden, you say?"

Joe nodded hastily, "Yes, sir."

The officers exchanged glances. The first nodded. "Well, okay. But you need to get out of here now. We have orders to move the crates."

Frank nodded.

Joe looked to his brother, "What about Charity? We let them remove all the crates, she'll escape."

Frank knew his brother was right. "Hold on a minute." He said to an officer, holding up his hand. "Could you start with the crates that have already been opened?"

The officer raised an eyebrow and the first one gave him a strange look.

"You see…" Frank continued. "We have reason to believe two of the smugglers have hidden themselves within one of these wooden boxes and---" He trailed off.

"Whatever." The first officer shrugged and he and his comrade settled the lid back on an open crate and picked it up.

Frank waited until they had left before searching again for the crowbar. "Come on, we'll have to work fast. If Charity is nearby she knows we're looking for her and may try to escape."

Joe nodded and began to help Frank look for the metal object. They soon found it behind a crate in the corner.

"I wish we had two of these." Joe complained as he and Frank moved over to another container.

Frank began to pry up the lid of another wooden box, "Well, look around. We may have just overlooked one."

Joe set off in one direction, just as the officers returned for another open crate.

"Over there." He heard Frank direct them.

Joe began scanning the floor for another crowbar. A small noise drew him over into the far end of the cargo hold. "Hello?" He cautiously stepped further in to the space.

Silence.

Joe shrugged and continued to search the floor. He soon found what he was looking for, hung up on a peg in the corner. He snatched up the tool and began making his way back towards Frank and the doors. Then he heard it again.

Joe froze and looked around. He saw no one. _This is weird._ He thought to himself. The sound came again and he looked to a crate off to the left. Was it just him, or were the noises coming from inside? Could it be--- _Charity!_

Joe cautiously approached the crate and brought down the crowbar. If Charity were inside, he'd have to work quietly. He began to slowly pry up the wooden lid.

Suddenly, the lid flew up at him and knocked him down. He sat, stunned, on the floor, and looked up at the face of his attacker. Charity! He had found her!

Charity looked both ways and leveled the gun she held on Joe. Joe got the message. _Don't say anything or I'll shoot. _That was fine by him. She wouldn't be able to escape the ship anyways. Frank and the officers were at the only exit from the cargo hold. But where was Ross?

"Get up!" Charity hissed at him. For the first time in a long time, she looked at him with disgust.

Joe instantly complied, and slowly got to his feet. He was still a little sore from when the wooden lid had hit him. He wondered why Frank hadn't come to investigate? Surly he and the officers had heard the crash.

Charity stepped out from the box and walked over to him. "You had to make things difficult, didn't you?" She still stood a good two feet from him, but her gun was unwavering in her grasp.

Joe leveled a serious gaze on her. He hurt all over, from his fall to the ground, but he tried not to show he was in pain. "You're going to jail, Charity."

She smiled, "That's what I like about you, Joe. You always have a good sense of humor."

Joe wasn't amused. "There's no way you'll make it off this ship without someone finding you. Frank's opening all the crates. Not one will be overlooked." He wanted to keep her talking for as long as possible.

Charity shook her head. "You're the only one that knows I'm here. Alone, Frank isn't going to be able to open every box before they're carried off. The Bayport force doesn't have that kind of patience."

"What do you mean?"

"Get in." She motioned to the open crate she had just vacated.

"In?"

She waved the gun at him. "Either you go in alive or dead."

"You wouldn't shoot me. The shot would make too much noise." Noise! Shouldn't he have been screaming his head off right about now?

As if reading his thoughts, Charity's smile vanished. "In the box, Joe."

Joe slowly began to obey. If only he could alert Frank somehow. If he called out, he'd be dead. _Yes, but they'd catch Charity._ Joe didn't like the route his thoughts had taken.

"Alright, now step inside."

Joe looked down to notice he was right in front of the empty crate. It was empty. _Ross must be in a different crate. _He thought. He stepped in.

"Good, now crouch down, lay down, whatever, just get your head under the rim so I can fit the lid on."

Joe hesitated and looked back at her. "Charity? What's the use? They're going to find us. We're trapped."

Charity frowned, but said nothing. She walked over to where the wooden lid lay on the floor. Joe hoped she was thinking about what he said.

He watched her as she battled the semi-heavy object. She'd have to drop the gun to lift it. Then he could scoop it up and get the drop on her.

Unfortunately, Charity's thoughts followed the same pattern. She walked back over to where he stood, his feet in the crate. "Well? Crouch down."

"No."

"If you don't, I'll just have to knock you unconscious."

"No."

"Joe," She rolled her eyes, "Don't try and be the hero. Just do as I say. As soon as I'm out of here, I'll let you go. I promise."

Joe didn't believe her. She had left him several times in dangerous situations. He'd never forget the first, when she had tied him to a chair and left a container full of corrosive acid directly above him.

"Come on, Joe…"

He wouldn't do it. There was no way he'd let her win again.

"Joe---"

"Alright, Charity. Drop the gun."

Joe and Charity instantly whipped to the right. Frank stood there, arms crossed. An officer was at his side with his gun drawn.

Charity looked to Joe and then back at Frank and the officer. Joe could tell she was starting to panic. He had to admit, for her crazy life of carefree crime, this was a pretty pitiful way to go.

"Miss? Drop your gun." The officer repeated Frank's command.

Charity looked helplessly to Joe.

"May as well do what they say, Charity." Joe grinned smugly, "You're caught."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

That night, Frank, Joe and their father, sat alone at the dinner table. Fenton had heated up a can of soup for dinner and both boys ate with hearty appetites. For Frank, anything edible tasted pristine, even chicken noodle.

"I still can't believe Charity's finally behind bars." Joe said once he had finished his third bowl of soup. He leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile graced his lips.

"Well, believe it, brother." Frank replied, reaching for another piece of bread. "We finally shut her down. I feel a little sorry for Ross though."

Joe nodded and looked to his father. "Speaking of which, hey dad? What exactly are the authorities planning to do with him. I mean, he's a minor, isn't he?"

Fenton nodded. "If they find him guilty, he'll go to Juvenile Detention. If found innocent, he'll probably be placed in a foster home."

Frank nodded his head, solemnly.

"Well, at least we're home safe and all those smugglers are behind bars." Joe continued, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yes. I'm glad they all escaped the house before it blew." Frank agreed. "Well, all except Bart."

The room became silent.

Suddenly, the front door to the Hardy home opened and Aunt Gertrude entered, followed by the boys' mother.

"Well! I thought I heard some chattering!" Exclaimed Miss Hardy, strutting up to the table, her suitcase in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

"Hey, Auntie. Hi, Mom." Joe greeted.

"Have a nice trip?" Frank asked.

"Yes. Luckily, we came back sooner than expected. Great Aunt Louise is on the mend." Mrs. Hardy approached her husband and leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek. "It's good to see you home. When did you get back?"

"This morning." Fenton admitted sheepishly. He looked to his sister, "Where did the flowers come from?"

"Aunt Louise sent them home with us. She complained about having too many. SO many people sent her gifts while she was in the hospital." Mrs. Hardy followed her sister into the kitchen. "I'll get a vase for you, Gertrude."

"Thank you Laura."

Frank and Joe exchanged glances. Vase? That had been their second failure on this case. The Chinese vase wouldn't be returned to the museum it had come from. It was lost in the wreckage of what used to be Charity's mansion.

"Well, this is odd."

Everyone turned to face Mrs. Hardy as she walked away from the kitchen cabinet, a small cardboard box in her hand.

"What's the matter, Laura?" Fenton looked at his wife.

"This vase. I've never seen it before." She reached inside and removed the object, setting it on the counter.

Frank and Joe both stared at it in shock.

"The vase!" They both said at once and jumped up from their chairs and over to the counter.

"You know where this came from?" Mrs. Hardy asked. She exchanged a glace with Gertrude.

"You must have given Bart the wrong box." Joe said to Frank as he watched his brother lift the delicate artifact from off the counter.

"And to think we thought we lost it." Frank agreed.

"Boys?" Aunt Gertrude leveled a steely gaze on her two nephews. "What are you talking about?"

"Aunt Gertrude, right here is an ancient Chinese vase stolen from a historical museum. We thought we had lost it, but boy will the police be happy when they see this!"

"Police? Stolen?" Miss Hardy looked to her brother for clarification.

"Don't worry, Gertrude. The danger's all past now." Fenton smiled at her.

"Well, if that's the ancient artifact, would somebody mind telling me what happened to the crystal vase I also had in this cabinet?" Mrs. Hardy said.

Frank exchanged glances with his brother. "Well, Mom." He said, placing the vase back on the counter. "It's a very long story…"

THE END


End file.
